Mass x Acceleration
by Dixxy Mouri
Summary: Part 2 Laws of Motion. After escaping from Dr. Tesla's ship, Sanji and Nami have washed up on the seemingly quiet shores of Apple Island. Now that they have a quiet place to heal and put their lives back together, they need to decide what to do with their lives all over again. Review please!
1. Prologue

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Prologue

The young woman had passed out, and Mac nearly panicked. However, his house was in sight – just a little bit more and they'd be inside. Braeburn was next to him, trying to keep an eye on the young man in his arms, the mayor, and the young woman he was carrying. Cobbler was moving about around them, circling them as they walked – he, too, was trying to protect these injured strangers.

"Where do you think they could have come from?" asked Braeburn.

"Don't know, don't care – as long as they're here, on this island, it's my job to make sure they're safe," Mac said stoically. They passed through the gate in the backyard, and the mayor nudged the backdoor open. Into the kitchen they went, Braeburn kicking the door closed as soon as the dog was inside. Cobbler sat by the door, stoically looking at his master and the blacksmith.

Mac looked at the young woman in his arms again. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened to her, but whatever it was had been nasty. He wasn't sure if her passing out was good or not – he supposed it was possible this meant she was resting, or she'd slipped into something worse. He didn't know. He wasn't a doctor.

_Doctor. Of course._

"I've got a guest bedroom upstairs with two twin beds – let's get them up there and get them under the covers. After that, go get Robert – there's only so much we can do and it's not going to be enough. We need to get him here as soon as we can," Mac ordered, leading Braeburn to the stairs. "And we need to keep this quiet for now – once things get better we'll figure out what to do next but I don't want this to start a panic in town."

"Wait – why are we keeping them a secret?"

Mac lowered his eyes as they got to the base of the stairwell. "I'm the mayor of this island. Don't get me wrong – I want to help these two just as badly as you do, but I have to protect the people who live here as well. Besides, this could cause a panic – not only would that be bad for the other people here but it might hurt these too as well."

Braeburn understood – telling everyone on the island what happened would do nothing to help these people – it might even make it worse if a panic started and people started marching on the mayor's house demanding answers, possibly disrupting the patient's rest of any of Gala's attempts to treat them. The only people who had any business knowing what was going on (aside from those already privy to that information) was the island's doctor and maybe the mayor's mother, a retired midwife and the only other person with any kind of medical training to be found. Other than that, no one, really.

When they got halfway up the stairs, Mac felt a hand tugging on his arm. The girl's eyes were half open. "Bellemere," she said. The mayor paused, looking at her in curiosity. Did she need something? He readjusted her in his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. She seemed to calm down, relaxing a little in his arms. "Bellemere . . ."

_I wonder who she's talking about? _"It's okay, it's okay, everything's going to be all right," he said. She quieted, seeming to have passed out again. Mac frowned. _Poor things. They must have been through a lot._ He held her closer, continuing to tell her it was going to be all right and wondering how long it was going to take them to get Dr. Gala to his house.

They finished the climb as Braeburn led them to the guest bedroom door. There were two twin sized beds in the room, and the men quickly and quietly assigned a patient to each. The warmth of the blankets would probably do them both good, as there was no telling how long they'd been out there in the cold. In a few minutes the two drifters were nestled snuggly in the beds, but neither looked very comfortable.

Braeburn looked to the mayor for guidance. "Okay, what now?"

"Robert," said Mac.

"Right. Robert."

There was banging outside of his door.

Dr. Robert Gala looked up from his book and out the window to see the blacksmith pointing at the door with an angry look on his face. The young doctor tilted his head to the side, stood, and walked to the door. "In a minute, in a minute, I'm coming, I'm coming," he muttered. He opened the front door and was nearly knocked on his rear as the blacksmith bolted in.

"Where's your bag! We need to go now! NOW!"

Gala stared at Braeburn in bewilderment. "What?" he asked.

"There are sick people at Mac's and we-"

The word "sick" was all Gala needed to hear. He glared, and the blacksmith quieted. "How sick?" the doctor asked, folding his arms and looking at Braeburn in concern. The blacksmith wasn't the type to get THAT panicky over a papercut, so whatever had riled him up must have been serious (or, at the very least, appeared serious to someone without medical training). "If they are that sick I need symptoms so I know what I need."

"Oh God, I don't know – they were washed up in a little boat wearing next to nothing – bald, skinny, pale, you have to see for yourself – something's wrong with them but we don't know what!" Braeburn put his hands on the doctor's shoulders. "I am a blacksmith. Mac is a mayor. We don't KNOW any doctoring. That's YOUR job!"

The doctor had heard enough for the moment. _Even without knowing what happened, if they were barely dressed in this weather they're in danger of frost bite and hypothermia. If there's anything else I won't be able to tell until I get there, but we need to hurry. _He quickly made a short, mental checklist of what needed to get to the mayor's house as quickly as possible and volunteered the blacksmith to fetch anything he needed for symptoms he didn't anticipate. Which, considering what little he knew, could be a lot of things.

Gala raised his hand to Braeburn's lips and pointed down the hall. He needed to calm the blacksmith down and get him focused on the task at hand. "My office. Now. We're loading up my medical bag with as much as we can carry. Be prepared to do a lot of running – if I find something else you will need to get it to me an hour ago – clear?"

Braeburn nodded, following the doctor into the medical room. As Gala started to gather supplies and had the blacksmith gather the easily identifiable ones, he empathized with the other man and Mac. They wanted to help, but neither was very good at basic first aid, never mind taking care of seriously ill patients.

"Tell me everything you can remember – it might help."

The mayor's new suits looked amazing.

Ria Elstar was humming to herself as she carried the carefully packed parcels through town towards the mayor's house. He had been in need of new suits – badly – and she was pleased with how the order had turned out. Certainly the suits were going to cost him a pretty penny and she'd be able to stuff some extra berries into her rainy day fund, or buy her girls new dolls – they had been particularly well behaved as of late – or maybe treat her family to a special dinner.

She nearly started to drool over the thought of getting a nice big ham, or maybe a turkey.

Ria left the main part of town to get to Mac's home. She thought it was a bit inconvenient to have the mayor's home and office away from the main part of the island, but it was nice and quiet there, and maybe when the home was built the islanders thought it would be best for their leader to have a place away from all the commotion to do his work in peace. It wasn't like it bothered her, and it didn't change that he had an office in the town hall so it wasn't like he was inaccessible.

The mayor's house came into sight. Ria smiled – she'd probably be able to go in for a few minutes and have a cup of tea or something else nice and warm. Snow was very pretty, but also very cold, and Ria wasn't a fan of the latter. Still, it was nice living on one of the few islands on the Grand Line that had multiple seasons.

Ria got to the door and started to knock. "Mac?" she called.

No answer came right away, but before she started to worry she heard the sounds of footsteps rushing down the stairs. She raised an eyebrow – Mac had a bad knee and had to be gentle with it, so it was very rare for the man to run. Maybe Dr. Gala had come up with a new treatment for him to heal the old injury better?

She could hear Mac calling out from behind the closed door, and it was soon obvious he had been expecting someone else. "That was fast! Were you on this end of town or something? The patients are- " The mayor threw the door open, looking worried and frazzled. When he saw it was the seamstress outside and not whoever it was he was expecting, he looked exasperated and disappointed.

"Don't look so happy to see me," she said dryly.

The mayor looked like he was trying to decide something. Odd. It wasn't like there was much of a decision to be made. He wanted a suit. He ordered a suit. She took his measurements and made the suit. They had done a few fittings to fix what Mac didn't like and adjust places that didn't fit. All he had to do was take the suit and pay her.

Ria paused – he had said something that made very little sense with what she was there for. Did he mean "patience", like what Wendy and Sundae didn't have while she was trying to make them dinner, or did he mean "patients" like sick or injured people? The former made no sense – the suit was supposed to be done the following day and she had gotten a little extra time to finish it ahead of schedule. As for the latter . . .

The mayor took a deep breath, giving his decision one last go over, over then let it out. "I'm sorry, Miss Elstar. . . something's happened," he said slowly. "I realize it isn't your forte but you've taken care of the girls when they were sick before, right?" Ria paused, then slowly nodded. Of course she took care of her babies when they weren't feeling well – was he stupid or something?

"Are you okay, Mac?" she asked.

The mayor swallowed. "I think I need your help – just until Gala gets here."

Ria froze. "What do you need Gala for?" she asked.

Mac shuddered. "We have a pair of . . . God, I don't know what happened to them, but they washed up on the beach this morning. Braeburn's run off to find Dr. Gala and . . . I don't know what to do here." He reached out and grasped her hand. "Please help me. I've never had to take care of anyone in bad shape before."

"If you're this desperate for Gala-"

"Please help me – don't you have mother's instincts or something?"

The seamstress relented. "Okay, okay, we'll figure something out, just calm down."

"Something isn't right," Gala said, pondering what Braeburn had told him as the swiftly walked towards the mayor's home. The blacksmith looked at the doctor funny, to which the doctor shook his head. "They were in awful shape, right? Torn up clothes, thin, barely conscious – those could all point to being out at sea for too long after being marooned or shipwrecked."

Braeburn nodded. Shipwreck made sense to him.

"But you described them as pale – that makes no sense for someone who's been out on the open sea. They should be sunburned or tanned after prolonged exposure – not pale. That doesn't make any sense." He looked at his hands, trying to weigh the possibilities. "I'm going to need to take a closer look at them to figure out what happened, but the more I think about it the more it's giving me the creeps."

Braeburn swallowed. If Gala was this nervous without even looking at them . . .

Mac definitely needed her help – Ria wasn't much of a nurse herself, but the poor mayor didn't have a clue. Keeping the two bundled up in the beds he had provided them with, the seamstress told him to get water. If they'd been out on the open sea, they needed clean drinking water. True, they were underweight and probably malnourished, but dehydration was the faster killer.

_ Once upon a time, I was a complete stranger who washed up on this island in distress. And this place is my home now. It's where I've been able to raise my little girls and watch them grow. Maybe it's only fair that I help the next drifting strangers to find themselves here,_ she thought to herself, trying to get the young woman to drink.

"It's okay, Sugah – it's just water," she said, trying to talk soothingly and calmly. She gently brushed her hand over the young woman's forehead, putting the cup to her lips and hoping she'd drink. "Come on, we want you to stick around for a while longer – you've got to hold on until Dr. Gala gets here to fix you two up."

The young woman seemed to cringe at the mention of Gala's name. Ria wondered why – Gala was a perfectly nice man and possibly the best doctor she'd ever encountered. She couldn't imagine his name making someone uncomfortable. She closed her eyes. _Although . . . those things they were wearing . . . _

Ria's eyes widened. Could this have been the work of some kind of mad doctor?

Gala couldn't believe was he was looking at.

Being a doctor, he had seen people in various states of the distress, but this might have been the worst he'd seen anyone – including several men and women who'd been lying on their deathbeds. Though they didn't look like they were knocking down death's door quite yet, they wore pained expressions on their faces that told the doctor there had been emotional trauma involved, which he wouldn't know the full extent of until they woke up.

He'd chased Mac and Miss Elstar from the room so he could focus on his patients, but thanked them both for trying their best before he got there. Even if there were two people in very bad shape, it was better to have one knowledgeable doctor by himself than two makeshift nurses who didn't know what to do beyond giving them water and keeping them warm. It was hard to split his attention between the two, but he found a way to do it and had makeshift charts for both of them he was furiously scribbling vital signs and symptoms onto.

"Wh . . . where . . ."

Gala turned to see the young man was shuffling around in his bed. As far as he knew this was the first the young man had been awake. "It's all right now," the doctor said soothingly, turning his attention from the charts to the young man. The young man turned to him, and looked at him with a distant, far away look.

"Is she . . . is she . . ."

"Your companion is just fine. She's in the next bed." Gala stood and pushed the chair back to allow the young man to see. Relief seemed to wash over his patient and he closed his eyes, mouthing the words "thank God". "You've both been through quite a lot, but you're in good hands. Just get some rest now, all right?" The young man blinked at him, then rolled over and pulled the covers tighter around himself.

Gala felt a little better – the young man probably wouldn't remember any of their exchange and probably wasn't truly conscious, but knowing his companion was all right had set him at ease a little which was probably good for him. He didn't want to wake up the female to do the same – let her wake up on her own if she needed to.

He wondered what their relationship was. Mac and Braeburn had said they'd been huddled together on a small lifeboat, but that didn't hint at anything. They could have been brother and sister, husband and wife, friends, or even complete strangers who'd just happened to end up in the same awful situation.

Gala took a second look at the sleeping young man and paused. There were thick lines on his arms and chest. He blinked – he'd missed those during his initial examination, but then again he'd been focused on isolating the most life threatening symptoms. These, though strange, were faint bruises – nothing life threatening from those.

The doctor took a second look. No, something was wrong. They still weren't life threatening, but they were consistent with repetitive restraint. Gala felt his stomach churn. Wherever they came from, they were being held down often, if not constantly. He wondered why. Who would do such a thing, and why?

Unfortunately, that wasn't the last thing Gala noticed. There was a strange scar on the back of his neck. The doctor moved in closer, and his blood froze when he saw the scar was . . . writing. "0-5-4-4," he said in a hushed whisper to himself. He wondered if it was some kind of bizarre coincidence all of the scars looked like numbers.

The doctor turned to the female. _Unless . . . _

"Where did you find them!"

Mac, Ria, and Braeburn all looked up in surprise to see Gala staring at them intently from his perch halfway down the stairs. "Uh, the beach? Maybe a half mile in the direction of the orchards?" The mayor stood, crossing his arms. "Is there something else wrong with what happened here? Are they contagious?"

Braeburn trembled. He'd run through town and could have hurt the others in the village.

"No, they're not contagious, but where did you find them! There may be others!"

Ria swallowed. "Others?"

Gala took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and composed himself. "There are scars on the backs of their neck, and they look like numbers. Sequential numbers. And the numbers are too . . . precise . . . to be some kind of bizarre coincidence. The numbers are each four digits long and start with a zero. I'm worried there could be more – a lot more."

Mac couldn't even give the order to Braeburn and Ria before the two of them were on their way out the door, already discussing plans to comb the beach for more survivors – Cobbler tagged along, seeming to understand that there were more sick people and another set of eyes and ears – even canine ones – would be helpful. He looked at the door as it slammed shut, then back to the doctor. "Tell me what you need me to do," he said. "Cook? Fetch? Anything – just say the word."

Hours had passed. Ria, Braeburn, and Cobbler returned – no one else had washed up on the shore. They weren't sure if that was a relief or not, but Mac quietly pointed out that if more had shown up, Gala wouldn't be able to handle that many patients in that bad condition. None of them needed to voice that they hoped there were no others.

Cobbler had gone upstairs and was now guarding the guest room. No one complained.

Braeburn urged Ria to go home – the twins would be done with their play date soon and they would be looking for their mother. The young woman looked between the people and the room and the door in a panic – she wanted to help, but her daughters were her first priority. She told Mac she would be back with pajamas for their patients and food for everyone involved.

Braeburn stayed behind in case Gala needed anything else. The two men sat quietly on the couch, contemplating what was going on. "We don't get a lot of new people on this island," said Mac. "And everytime we do, there's some kind of drama involved. First it's Gala and his special brand of baggage, then you show up with Ria about to go into labor, and now this. Apparently people can't come to this island without . . . stuff."

"Well, think about the overall situation of the island, Mac – normal people aren't going to come here knowing what's on this island unless they have no choice. Of course once you get here it's fine and lovely or whatever you want to call it, but you had to have known that this island was going to see trade with most of the rest of the world grind to a halt," said Braeburn. "Maybe this island does scare away your so-called 'normal' people. So what? The people already here are good and yeah, maybe it takes them a while to get used to the newbies but after a while it's like we've always been here. The two upstairs are going to be no different."

Mac sighed. "I know what you mean, and you're right. You and Ria have established yourselves and your businesses very well here – and Ria with two small children in tow, no less – and we were lucky to get any doctor, never mind someone as competent as Gala. You three have made yourselves at home here and everything worked out fine. It just seems like these two . . ."

"They have a tougher road ahead of them because they have to get healthy on top of everything else – oh sure, giving birth to twins isn't a picnic but women have been doing it since the beginning of time and Ria's a tough cookie. But they've survived this long, and as long as Gala's up there it means he hasn't given up on them yet, either. Maybe it'll all be okay."

The mayor sighed. "Maybe you're right, Braeburn. I can't help but worry though."

Gala emerged from the guest room to talk with Mac sometime later. Braeburn had fallen asleep on the couch, and the mayor was just finishing draping a blanket over him. "Mac?" The mayor nodded, gesturing for the doctor to follow him into the kitchen – both for consideration of the sleeping blacksmith's slumber and a desire to not have him overhear what was going on.

Once they arrived, Gala flopped into a chair, looking emotionally drained and beside him. He had his head in his hands and was struggling to compose himself. Mac got up to put on a pot of tea – both for his nerves and the nerves of the island's only doctor. "I don't know who did this to them, but this isn't the result of being lost at sea."

"Then . . . what is it?" asked Mac.

"I don't know. But it was bad. There's evidence they were held against their will, and everything else suggests that whoever had them was probably not the World Government, unless they're pulling the wool over the public consciousness. I'd like to stay here for the night to keep an eye on them, and then perhaps send Braeburn back to my office for more supplies – I just don't know what I'm going to need yet."

"That's fine – stay as long as you need," said Mac. "Do you have any idea who they are?"

"None, but I've checked them both over for scars and identifying marks – other than those awful numbers. The girl has a tattoo covering a stab scar – the tattoo is very decorative, so I'm guessing this means she received it voluntarily and for cosmetic purposes. She also has scarring on one of her feet, like it had been impaled, but there are no other physical markers. She has a SLIGHTLY irregular heartbeat but it's not irregular enough that I think she's in immediate danger. I'm keeping an eye on it, of course, but for now I'm not immediately concerned."

"And the young man?"

"Well, he has a few nasty scars, including an old stab wound on the small of his back but he also has a few very small ones on his fingers, consistent with minor accidents involving cutting implements like a chef's knife or whittling tools – he's probably learned a trade of some sort," said Gala. "This all tells me two things. One, they didn't grow up in this environment – the tattoo on the young lady and evidence of the young man learning a trade are evidence that at some point they were both living quote-unquote 'normal lives'. But the other scars tell a different story. We're dealing with people who have seen combat – pirates, Marines, or bounty hunters most likely. I have no way of knowing which."

"Your guess is as good as mine – you know we don't get a lot of any of those around here anymore," said Mac. He frowned as he poured their tea. "That's one thing that kind of stinks about not being associated with the World Government anymore – I don't have access to wanted posters or missing persons files so if things like this DO happen I don't know who or what I'm dealing with."

"It isn't like we're not taken care of," said Gala.

Mac sighed, leaning his head back. "That's true . . ."

"If they're pirates, they're in no shape to hurt this island. And there's no guarantee they would anyways – not all pirates are monsters," said Gala, a smile on his face. He sighed and stood. "I'd like to request you get some sleep for a few hours. I'm going to go as long as I can, but then I'm going to ask you to watch them again while I get some rest."

"Of course," said Mac. That made sense – if Gala was overtired he might do something stupid. The two men took their tea, drank it quickly, and stood to head upstairs, but not before Mac made sure all of the ground level doors were locked – he didn't want anyone wandering in, innocent villager or malicious hunter alike.

Ria wasn't sure what to tell her girls.

_I wasn't supposed to be out for so long – just an hour, really. That turned into several hours. This mess right here . . . oh dear._ She was sitting on the couch in the two bedroom apartment above her shop, a toddler on either side of her displaying varying reactions to her extended absence. Wendy, her older, was mad. Sundae, the younger, was hanging onto her arm and crying up a storm.

She put her arm around Wendy's shoulder. "I had a good reason for being delayed. I'm sorry you two had to wait, but something happened at Mr. Mayor's house and he needed my help for a little bit," she said quietly. She closed her eyes. "Mr. Mayor doesn't want everyone around town talking about it yet, but some sick people washed up on shore this morning."

Wendy's scowl softened, and Sundae stopped crying, wiping her eyes. "Sick?" Wendy asked.

"Do their tummies hurt?" asked Sundae.

"It's . . . different," said Ria. "But Mr. Mayor was waiting for Dr. Gala when I showed up. And he needed my help until the real doctor could get there. Then your Uncle Braeburn and I had to make sure there wasn't anyone else, and then I came home to you two." She felt her stomach churn and held her girls closer. "They're very sick. Very, very sick."

"Did Dr. Gala get there?" asked Wendy.

"If he got there then he'll fix them so it'll be okay, Mommy," said Sundae.

_I don't think this is something Gala can fix that easy-_

"I KNOW!" Wendy yelled.

Ria turned to the older twin. "Inside voice, Wendy!" she said.

"We gotta draw pictures!" Wendy squirmed away and darted in the general direction of their bedroom. Sundae nodded and agreed, following her sister while Ria watched in bewilderment. She followed them into the room, where Wendy had already put paper on their table and Sundae was looking for crayons.

"What are you two doing?" she asked.

"Remember when Mr. Mayor's Mommy got sick and we drew her pictures? She got better, so if these people are REALLY sick we're gonna have to draw a LOT of pictures," said Wendy. She looked at the box of crayons Sundae brought over and frowned. "I hope we have enough crayons, Sundae." She looked at her mother. "Can we use some of your colored pencils if we run out, Mommy?"

Ria covered her mouth with her hand. She closed her eyes. "Of course you can."

In the middle of the second day, Braeburn headed out for a short bit to get food for Gala and Mac (and maybe the patients, if there was anything for them there) from the Cider Mug. Gala and Mac both had favorite foods there, and besides, Braeburn had a different errand he needed to run there anyways – one he wasn't terribly looking forward to.

The Cider Mug was one of the few hang out spots on the island. During the afternoon and early evening, it was a small restaurant that did okay business. People would go there sometimes during breaks for a quick bite to eat, or have larger, longer meals if they needed to discuss something business related. Couples occasionally had dates there. But where the establishment really shined was its later evening services – they still served food (well, some food, mostly booze), but they also played music or hosted musicians to play live so people could dance and unwind after a long day.

During his spare time (which he had an inordinate amount of – the blacksmith's forge was busy enough to keep food on his table but not busy enough to keep him busy even twenty hours a week sometimes), Braeburn was in a band that played at the Cider Mug. It consisted of others who had enough spare time on their hands to practice and perform and in his opinion they were pretty good.

Except that their vocalist, Deltana, was a whiny prima donna who sometimes made what they did a nightmare. Maybe Darryl Gravenstein had missed a note or Jimmy Grieve had shown off too much during a drum solo – she complained about it. How dare the guitarist make a mistake like any other human being and how dare their drummer do what he loved best when it took away from her performance?

That was only part of it. Deltana regularly missed practices (claiming she didn't need to practice like the rest of them did when, really, Deltana was slightly above average at best and had only gotten into the band because no one else seemed interested) and had shown up blitzed to three performances over the last month, culminating on her barfing, mid show, all over poor Mac.. The rest of the band voted her out and decided to take a hiatus to calm down, clear their heads, and then see what they could do to hunt down someone who didn't make something they did for fun and a little extra money a completely miserable experience.

Braeburn had been elected to tell Cliff Haralson about their situation. It wasn't that he expected the restaurant owner to be mad or angry, but it still wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. They all loved performing and talking to Haralson would be finalizing their break and meaning no, they would not be practicing together or having jam sessions for a while.

Then again, the sense of dread he'd been feeling over this 'discussion' had dwindled because what was going on at the mayor's house had put the whole situation into perspective for him. Their situation could have been a hell of a lot worse. It wasn't like they were breaking up forever – they had picked a date to get back together and start brainstorming their next move. None of them were lying unconscious in the mayor's house after going through some sort of torture that probably made anything Deltana could have done seem like a minor annoyance.

_And then there's . . . _Braeburn clenched his eyes shut. His heart pained at the thought, and he shuddered where he stood. It always hurt to think about that, and he needed a moment to compose himself. _Right._ _There's nothing I can do about that. Not anymore. And even if I could do something about it, I probably shouldn't._ Still shaky but able to go forward with what he had to do, Braeburn buried that burden as deep as he could and made the rest of the walk to the Cider Mug.

As he put his hand on the door to the restaurant, Braeburn paused. It seemed so stupid now. Yes, Deltana was a bitch and he was glad to be rid of her from the band but he couldn't help but feel indifferent to the situation anymore. He closed his eyes. It didn't matter. It really didn't matter. Fuck Deltana. Her bullshit was behind him and he had way more important things to do now. He was going to do what he could to help the drifters get better and get them back on their feet because that was a way better use of him time then stewing about a vocalist who sometimes didn't wear underwear with her miniskirts.

After two days of taking turns keeping an eye on their patients, Gala said it looked like they were finally out of the woods and it was only a matter of time before they truly woke up. Mac, Braeburn, and Cobbler were the only ones who had stayed the whole time to support the doctor. Ria mostly stayed away for the sake of her daughters (which was understandable, especially considering their young age), but had stopped by several times with food for the makeshift hospital staff the doctor had to deal with. Perhaps the most important thing she brought, however, was four sets of pajamas – for each patients – so they could wear something other than the ragged hospital-gown shirts they'd been wearing.

Braeburn and Cobbler mostly kept watch or ran errands for Gala. Sometimes they needed to turn someone looking for Mac away, the blacksmith explaining that an emergency had cropped up and the mayor was not in a position to see anyone (which, even when he wasn't helping was true – he was something of a nervous wreck over the whole situation as time wore on).

However, two mornings after they had been found they were both sleeping peacefully, each lying on their side or belly with the blankets wrapped around them as they each subconsciously saw fit. Both were mumbling things in their sleep, but some of the mumblings seemed neutral or positive – names, foods, and otherwise lighthearted nonsense occasionally slipped from their lips.

"Gala, if they're in as good as you say they are you need to go home and get some rest," said Mac. Gala wanted to protest, but the mayor was right – it wouldn't be much longer before his medical knowledge would be rendered useless by a lack of sleep. He told Mac to call him if he needed anything, although Braeburn suggested calling in the mayor's mother if something happened right away.

"I know you don't like your mom going through the snow by herself, but she's the only other person on their island with ANY kind of medical knowledge – Gala's worse than useless to them if he doesn't get any sleep," said Braeburn. "C'mon, Gala, I'll walk you home so you don't take a nap in the snow."

Gala nodded dumbly. "They're out of the woods . . . they're out of the woods . . ."

Braeburn put an arm around the doctor's shoulder, quietly agreeing with him as he led the other man towards the door. He turned to the mayor, nodded and smiled, and mouthed that everything was going to work itself out fine at this point. Mac smiled back, grateful that things were looking up but still worried for the sleeping lost souls upstairs.

As Mac watched the blacksmith and the doctor head towards the village, their patients woke up.

Author's Notes

Sorry for the delay – between the prologue not being where I wanted it to be and stuff going on in my life the delay happened. But it's here now!

So far all of the characters are named at least in part after breeds of apples – mostly last names (although Braeburn and Gala notably are usually referred to by their last names and Mac you could argue is both a reference for McIntosh apples and Apple Computers), but other apple cultivars that can be used as a full name may show up in smaller roles. Most of the important islanders have been introduced and most of those who haven't been introduced are minor or supporting characters.

Some of the more pressing questions you may have from "Sought" will be answered in single digit chapters of this story (if all goes according to plan). However, at least one mystery will be unsolved for a while yet, possibly not until "Equal But Opposite".

Speaking of "Sought", a few of you were concerned that Luffy and the others were looking for replacements for Sanji and Nami. First off, they technically hadn't started yet – they were still discussing it. Second, Sanji and Nami have key jobs on the ship that need to be filled. Although it is true that they had survived for over a year at that point no one on that ship is a cook or navigator by trade. Note that Franky said if something were to happen to him he would want the other Straw Hats to find a good shipwright to take care of the Thousand Sunny. No one wants to have a cook who isn't Sanji or a navigator who isn't Nami but they need to make sure that everyone who is left is safe and well fed.

See you next time!

-Dixxy


	2. Paradise

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter One: Paradise

Warm.

It was a sensation 0543 hadn't known for a long time. Even when she and 0544 held each other at night, even with scratchy blankets, it only did so much in the holding cell. There was always a chill. She didn't know if it was actually cold in there, or if it was just the hopelessness of their situation escalating as each day passed with no sign of rescue or chance to escape.

But as she started to wake up, 0543 felt like she was wrapped in warmth. It didn't make any sense. Nothing in her world was that warm anymore. The scientists wouldn't do anything to make her or 0544 comfortable – alive, yes, but comfort was only offered if it was a necessity. Another hallucination? Another experiment? She whimpered.

_Wait._

0543 thought for a moment. There had been a change in their situation, hadn't there? She'd fallen through the examination table, and 0544 could turn into a fox – somehow, there were two Devil Fruit powers inside each of them. It made no sense, but it had given them a glimmer of hope – a chance to escape. And they ran and hid through the ship for hours. Even if they couldn't find dry land, even if they were just escaping to their own deaths, they wanted to get away and be pirates one last time, even if their ship was a lifeboat and the stormy weather would take them out in second.

But they'd done it. They'd gotten away from him. Which meant . . .

_We're dead. He can't hurt us anymore._

But somehow this didn't seem like death. She still felt alive. She was breathing. She was pretty sure her heart was beating. Whatever she was, wherever she was, she wasn't dead. Her eyes widened. What did that mean? How could they still be alive? She shuddered. _No . . . don't tell me that man found us . . . please . . ._

She moved her hand.

0543 had free range of motion. She put her hand to her neck – no shock collar. She closed her eyes. If Tesla – that horrible man – had gotten to them she would have been bound in so much seastone she might not have the energy to breathe, not with her newfound ability to pass through solid objects. But there was warmth. There were no restraints. Wherever she was, it wasn't in the clutches of that person.

0543 shifted, and felt fabric around her – soft fabric. They were bed sheets and a blanket – a good blanket, not the scratchy pieces of shit that man provided them with if he even bothered to give them anything. There was a pillow under her head – a soft, fluffed pillow with a clean smelling pillow case.

She opened her eyes and saw pale green walls and a dark brown chest of drawers. The sheets were yellow and the blanket – an old, well loved quilt – was pale blue. There were pale green curtains, drawn, but she nearly burst into tears. There was a glow around the curtains, a glow she hadn't seen for over a year.

_The sun._

0543 struggled to sit up. Her body was aching and screaming at her. She wasn't sure why. She didn't know long she'd been out, or maybe the stress of the second Devil Fruit power showing up had taken a stronger toll on her body than she'd realized – hell, maybe the energy they'd had to escape had been adrenaline and with the sense of danger gone she had no more strength to rely on.

"You're awake . . ."

0543 struggled to turn over and saw 0544, just as weak and as bald and as skinny and pale and pathetic as she was, lying in a bed a few feet away from her. He was looking over at her, one arm reaching out desperately to touch her. His eyes were bagged and heavy, but his mouth was pulled into a weak grin. He was okay, too, and he was happy to see she was awake.

0543 reached out to touch 0544, their fingertips brushing before their arms dropped. She clenched her eyes closed and pulled her lips into a weak grin just like 0544's. This wasn't Tesla's ship. This wasn't a hallucination or a dream. She felt herself starting to cry. "Please, say this is real. Please. Tell me it's real."

"It's real."

That was when 0543 really started to get what was around her. Did her eyes and skin deceive her, but was she wearing pajamas? She struggled to roll onto her back. The ceiling above her looked so . . . normal. There were light fixtures on the walls, and the nightstand, and the chest of drawers and the windows covered with curtains and the suggestion of sunlight . . . it was a bedroom - a real bedroom, in a real house.

"We're in a house," she said, her voice scratched and dry. She watched 0544 stumble out of the bed he was in – sensing what he was doing, 0543 wiggled over to let him lie down with her. He was wearing pajamas, too – soft blue ones that matched her soft pink ones. They had a sort of "new clothing" feeling to them, which was a shock – she was pretty sure it had been well over a year before she'd had anything new (all of the gowns Tesla had given then were thin and worn – they hadn't been the first people to wear them).

0544 settled in next to her. There was no physical need for it (the bed was plenty warm), but after so many months of holding each other at night or when they were scared or lonely, it seemed like the natural thing to do, and neither of them gave it a second thought. Of course they were going to hold each other now. He pulled himself closer to her, resting the back of his hand against her cheek.

0543 closed her eyes and clung to the front of 0544's pajama top. She wanted to cry, but she didn't think she had any tears left in her. If this was some kind of cruel dream, she wanted to die before she woke up. This was too real. It felt warm and safe and she didn't care that she didn't know whose house this was because they had to be better than Tesla. Maybe they would get to eat real food, or maybe even see the sun for the first time in a year.

It was just a normal house, but in that moment, it was paradise.

Mac slipped into the room where his two charges were staying and nearly dropped his tray when he saw the young man's bed was empty. He nearly panicked, wondering where he'd run off to (never mind _where_, _how_ he could have run off), until he saw he was lying fast asleep in the other bed with his companion. They were huddled close, holding each other as they slept. Mac stepped closer. They looked a little happier, and their cheeks were shiny and wet – they'd been crying.

_They must be close - I wonder what their relationship is?_ Although they were both pale, skinny, and bald, Mac decided their facial structure was too different for them to be blood related – at least, not close blood relatives. There was a little bit of hair on their heads – orange on the young lady, and blonde on the young man, although the young men had black, curling eyebrows just starting to grow back in.

Cobbler poked his head in and woofed. Mac hissed at him to go away – the big black dog whimpered and retreated. He felt bad sending the poor animal away, but he didn't want to disturb them now that they were sleeping peacefully. After the time they'd had, he wanted them to get sleep. This was probably the first they'd really been resting . . . well.

Mac sat down on the young man's bed, watching them for a little bit. It seemed Gala was right and the worst of it was probably over, but Mac was very worried for what would happen when they regained consciousness. Would they be sane? Civilized? Or had they been locked up or whatever it was that had happened to them for so long that they'd lost their sense of themselves and their humanity?

If they had . . . then what?

Maybe the next time _he _came through, _he'd_ know what to do.

Mac stood up; he thought he should get them something to eat in case they woke up soon.

They laid there for a few hours, quietly enjoying their new environment. It was quiet, but there were no sounds of muttering scientists or medical equipment to be heard. The curtains were drawn, but slivers of sunlight were peeking through the curtains. 0544 wept a little when he saw those bits of sunlight – he knew he'd missed the sun while he was captive but he didn't realize how badly it was missed until he saw it. He watched the spots of light on the wall contently.

They were beautiful.

The more time passed, the more real the room became. They dozed off and woke up several times, so they knew it wasn't a dream, and everything felt real. At one point 0544 realized he smelled some kind of soap – someone had given them some kind of bath, but they'd used just a regular bar of soap, not the antiseptic medicinal crap Tesla had his crew use on them. Combined with the pajamas and the beds, it was clear that whoever was doing this had nothing to do with Tesla.

Someone gave a shit about them for the first time in a year.

There was the sound of a door opening. 0544 felt his back tense up and turned to look to see who was coming into their sanctuary, but the man who walked through wasn't Tesla or Curie or one of the other members of their crew. It was a middle aged man with dark brown hair and a pair of granny glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. He was carrying a tray with two tall glasses of water and two plates of crackers. The man spotted him looking at him, and the relief that washed over him was comforting.

"I was wondering when the two of you were going to wake up," he said with a smile. Balancing the tray on one hand, he opened up a tray table and set it down. 0544 sat up and sensed 0543 sitting up behind him. His muscles were screaming but his stomach yelled louder. Crackers and water wasn't terribly exciting, but it was food. The man paused. "You . . . well, all right," he said, scratching his head as he looked at 0544's changed position.

0544 and 0543 continued to stare at him. They weren't sure what to do. But even if the water was arsenic and the crackers were anthrax, they'd drink and eat. The man handed them the water first, and then the crackers, which they quickly drank and started to eat. 0544 gasped – he hadn't had cold water in a year. Whatever Tesla gave them was always luke warm.

Sitting down on what had been 0544's bed, the man folded his hands and watched them eat, evaluating them. They were quickly downing the crackers, clearly hungry and clearly not caring how many crumbs they got on the beds. "My dog found the two of you a couple of days and wouldn't stop barking until I came to see. Thank God the blacksmith was with me or else I don't know how we would have gotten you back here."

They stared at him oddly. He raised his hands in defense. "It's going to be okay. You're safe."

0543 and 0544 looked at each other. Yes, it seemed that way, didn't it?

The man frowned. "Can you speak?" he asked.

0543 urged 0544 to say something. "Yes," he said, but his voice was still dry.

The man frowned. "Maybe you shouldn't talk yet, your voice sounds a little hoarse – at the very least I think you two are going to need some more water. I'll be back, all right?" The pair slowly nodded, still in disbelief that this kind man and this house were even real. The man swallowed nervously, straightened his collar, and started to leave. But as he got to the door, and he turned and smiled warmly. "By the way, my name is Mac – I'm the mayor of Apple Island."

So that was what God was naming his angels these days.

Mac returned some time later with the promised pitcher of ice water, more crackers, and slices of apples. He was also accompanied by a large black dog who put his front paws on the edge of the bed next to the young man and woofed. The mayor winced – he was going to scare them or upset them. "Cobbler!" Mac said sternly.

The dog ignored him, instead paying attention to the two people scratching him behind the ears. They almost looked like they were smiling, and Cobbler was loving every second of it. The mayor decided to let the dog win this one – if petting him was going to make these people relaxed or content or whatever, so be it. They were both softly talking to Cobbler, and Cobbler had his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he looked excitedly between the two, his tail wagging behind him.

But in a moment things quieted, and Mac noticed the pair's eyes had locked onto the new plate of food – they were only absently scratching Cobbler now. "Hungry again?" he said. They looked up at him and nodded. Mac smiled, passing the plate to them and putting the pitcher on the nightstand – Cobbler moved out of the way and laid down on the floor by their bed. The pair went straight for the apples and started crying as they chewed on the white flesh. He blinked in surprise. "Tears? For apples?" he said.

The girl wiped the tears away. "No one's been this nice to us for a long time," she said.

Mac felt his heart pain. _Oh God, giving them sliced apples is the nicest thing someone's done for them in a long time? _He wasn't sure what to say for a few moments, watching them eat and occasionally steal glances at each other, smiling over the fruit. It was strangely satisfying to watch them, knowing that they were getting that much joy out of his simple gesture.

Granted, this was Apple Island. Apples were by far their most plentiful crop (a full third of the island's land was JUST apple orchards). Here, eating apples or making your living from apples was almost as common as breathing. There were always plenty to go around no matter what the season and it was only newcomers who might be excited over the crop, and newcomers were very rare these days.

He pushed his glasses back onto his nose. They looked at him for an answer, and he finally cleared his throat and settled on a response. "Well, you can have as many apples as your want – it's what our town does best. Grow apples. My mother makes a fantastic apple pie but the doctor says that you two probably shouldn't have any spicy foods for a while."

The word "doctor" caused his charges to stop eating, freeze, and stare at him in horror. Mac was surprised by their sudden reaction. Didn't they need to see the doctor so he could make sure they were healthy? Certainly they were awake and that was a good sign but God only knew what diseases the two may have contracted.

Then again, what they were wearing when he found them were hospital gowns. . .

He tried to backpedal. "Dr. Gala is a good man – he's a very talented doctor and wouldn't harm any of his patients. He only wants to make you better," he said slowly. The two exchanged nervous looks, and Mac wasn't sure if they were going to agree to getting help from Gala. However, Mac knew that regardless of their feelings, they needed to be looked at again. As they went back to their apple slices, Mac decided that maybe it was time for a subject change – for the moment, at least. "What are you names?"

"0544," the young man said, licking the juice from the apples off his fingers.

"0543," the girl responded, absently biting one of the slices.

Mac blinked. _Numbers?_ He had a horrible feeling in his stomach. People didn't name their children numbers. They had names._ Oh God this is getting even worse._ He swallowed and tried to straighten his tie. "Those . . . those can't be your real names. Is that really what your parents called you?"

Cobbler whined and pushed his nose into the young lady's knee.

The young man froze and looked at the girl. "Oh God," he said. He turned to Mac. "I . . . my name . . . my name . . ." He shuddered, his eyes widening. The young woman looked at her companion with a quivering bottom lip. He opened his mouth, a sound almost coming out, but he stopped, seeming to remember something horrible before shutting his mouth.

Mac felt his heart breaking again. _They have names but they're afraid to say them. But why?_ He closed his eyes. "It's okay. It's okay. We'll think of something. I promise." He looked between the two of them. "Those are not your names, yes?" The pair hesitated, but slowly nodded. "Okay. That's all I needed to know. We'll find a way to fix this. All right?"

"I don't know if we can . . ." said the young woman. She looked frustrated and ready to cry.

"Remember – I'm the mayor of this island. As long as you're on this island it is my job and honor to make you comfortable and happy. I will figure out SOMETHING," he said. His charges didn't seem to believe him, but Mac was certain there was something he could. Or, if there wasn't anything he himself could do, maybe Gala could do something for them. He turned to his dog. "Cobbler, keep an eye on them, okay boy?"

Cobbler barked in agreement and turned his attention back to his patients for more attention.

Author's Notes

And there's chapter one!

Sorry things have been slow – it was con season. And other stuff. You know, life. Chapter two needs to be handled a bit delicately (it's Gala's turn to officially meet a conscious Sanji and Nami) and hasn't had a lot of attention because, once again, CON SEASON and other stuff.

Someone very good observations were made in the reviews of the prologue and "Sought", a few of which impressed and amused me. As always there are people trying to climb the wrong trees but a few of you might be onto something this time around ;)


	3. Bad Medicine

A Force Against Inertia

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Two: Withdrawl

* * *

><p>It had been no more than ten minutes since Mac had last excused himself that 0543 started to feel ill. This shouldn't have surprised her – she'd downed the food the nice man had given them rather quickly, and this was after a year of living on nothing but the mushy stuff the scientists gave them. Of course her stomach wasn't used to real food anymore.<p>

She found a wastebasket to vomit into. But that didn't solve the problem.

But it seemed like it was maybe more than that. It was too hot, and she still felt nauseous, and everything just felt terrible in a way she couldn't put her finger on. She felt tense and anxious. Her body started to tremble. She was surprised 0544 hadn't said anything, but then noticed he was lying next to her, looking just as sick as she was and trembling as well.

She clenched her eyes shut, thinking over everything that had happened to them, and felt cold for a moment as a heavy realization weighed on her heart. _We knew that if we escaped we might be escaping to our deaths. But, considering what Tesla's done to us . . . we may have not been long for the world no matter where we were. "_They're going to kill us, aren't they?" she said, clinging to her companion.

0544, who was also feeling very overheated and uncomfortable grunted in response.

"The Devil Fruits – they're killing us. We're dying," she said.

"Damn it," he responded. He reached for her hand and grabbed it. "You think so?"

"Tesla was wrong – he was wrong. He was wrong. We're still gonna die."

0544 wiped some of the hair from her face. "We don't know that."

"He may as well had been feeding us poison this whole time, right?"

0544 wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure he could.

* * *

><p>Mac came back to see that his charges were asleep again. He smiled for a brief moment, thinking they were resting, but then he realized both were shuddering. <em>Perhaps they're cold? Doesn't feel too bad in here, but I suppose where they're so skinny . . . <em>Mac stepped into the room, thinking about draping the blankets over them to warm them up a bit.

Then he realized they were both breathing heavily, their brows dripping with sweat.

He paled. _Gala needs to get here RIGHT NOW._ He knew the doctor should be at least on his way by now, but there was a sudden sense of urgency to see the man as soon as possible. He closed his eyes, hoping and praying that his friend was on his way to the house. He was afraid to leave the room, though – what if something happened? He couldn't leave them alone, could he?

The mayor heard a knocking on his door. _It's either Gala or Braeburn. If it's Gala, great. If it's Braeburn. . . not so great._ Mac started to run towards the stairs but felt a sharp pain in his bad knee and nearly doubled over in pain. He gritted his teeth together. He'd been ignoring the old injury ever since the drifters showed up, but it wasn't going to be ignored any longer. He hobbled out of the guest room and towards the stairs, where he saw Gala coming up.

"Mac!" The doctor's eyes were wide and he looked concerned as he hurried up the stairs and knelt down by the mayor. "I'm sorry, I just let myself in but are you all right? What did you do to your knee?"

"I'm not the one you need to worry about – something is wrong with your patients," Mac said. He explained that "0543" and "0544" had woken up and moved around a bit but were now sweating bullets and having trouble breathing. Gala listened and nodded as he led the mayor back into the guest room, sat him down in a chair, and then went to look at his patients.

"Why did you use the numbers on their necks? Don't tell me those are their names," said Gala.

"Yes and no," said Mac, rubbing his knee to try and make the pain stop. "I am confident they have real names but for some reason they won't say them and I don't know why. It was like they were afraid to."

Gala shook his head. "I'll be looking into that when they wake up again."

The mayor frowned at the doctor. "I don't think they like doctors," said Mac.

The doctor looked pensive, trying to figure out what was wrong with his patients. "That's got to say a lot, I just wish I knew what. Let me help you to your room – try to lie down and get some rest. Let me worry about my patients. All right? I'm going to look over their chairs again and try to figure out what's going on here."

* * *

><p>0544 woke up back in the other bed still feeling like shit and, more importantly, away from 0543. He looked at where she was resting, breathing heavily as her body fought to stay alive. He felt himself shudder, bolting upright to start gagging. Someone handed him a bucket, but all he could do was dry heave. Everything Mac had fed them had come back up.<p>

"Breathe."

0544 turned his head to see a man with a stethoscope around his neck looking at him warmly. _Doctor._ He just stared at him blankly . _I know this man isn't one of the scientists. I know that – he seems different. So why am I having trouble moving?_ 0544 soon felt another surge of retching and dipped his head over the bucket, spitting and sputtering.

The doctor man started to rub his back, and he tensed up, dropping the bucket and pushing himself away from. He looked at him with wider eyes. The doctor looked at him sadly and put his hands in his lap. 0544 almost relaxed, but still felt his hands twitching. It was quiet for several minutes, the two staring at each other while 0543 slept uneasily in the next bed.

"It's okay. I don't bite," the other man said quietly and soothingly, much in the way a person might talk to a scared animal or a child. It made 0544 want to lash out – he was not an animal, Devil Fruit or no Devil Fruit. He glowered, snarling at the doctor. _I am not an animal, I am not an animal, I am NOT an ANIMAL._

He felt his body begin to shift and was soon snarling at him in his half-fox, half human body.

The transformation took the doctor aback and he moved away. "All right, all right," he said, putting his hands up defensively. 0544 calmed, but looking down at his body made him want to start crying. He forced himself to take his human form again, then wished he hadn't, because fur probably hid tears better than skin.

_Why can't we control our powers? I didn't want to shift into my fox body. So why . . ._

The man stood there for several moments, then knelt down before him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so forward. I just want to help you," he said. 0544 looked away – he didn't want to be crying in front of this man. "I know you're been though something awful. I can see it. In your bodies, your behavior . . . I'm here because I want to make you better."

0544 was skeptical. "How can you possibly help us? We're dying."

"Let's not jump to conclusions."

0544 scoffed. This doctor had no idea what the scientists had done them (even HE wasn't sure what they did – or at the very least, he didn't know HOW they did it). "What's been done to us can't be fixed," he said. He turned away. "I'm sorry if that's not good enough for you but it's true."

The doctor was quiet for several moments, trying to evaluate what he'd said. He sighed and moved to sit in a chair between the beds. "Well then, tell me what was done to you," he said. He crossed his legs. "I don't know where the two of you came from, but I don't think you did this to yourselves. Someone's been hurting you. How did they hurt you?"

0544 stared. It sounded crazy. He didn't think the doctor would believe him.

"All right, let's start again," he said. He held out his hand. "My name is Dr. Robert Gala. Call me whatever you'd like – most people just call me 'Gala'. Excluding a few midwives and a handful of nurses, I'm the only person with medical knowledge on the island. If there's a way to fix you, I'm the best equipped to do it."

The drifter looked away. "I can't say my name," 0544 said in response.

Gala frowned. "Mac mentioned that. Why?"

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists around the quilt. "They did something. They kept hurting us whenever they said our names or we tried to use them. I don't think they're here anymore, but I can't . . . I don't know why." He started to shake, his body trembling. Gala handed him a bucket and he dry heaved into his, coughing and spitting and ready to cry.

"Conditioning," said Gala. "It's the process of reinforcing good behavior or punishing bad behavior. That's what was done to you. I can fix it, but I would need to know your names," he said. Gala turned to 0543, who was still sleeping – not restfully, but definitely sleeping. "Can you tell me her name? And then she can tell me yours?"

"No. They did it for both of our names to both of us," he said, putting the bucket down.

"Can you tell me who 'they' are?" asked Gala. "Was it the World Government? Pirates?"

"Pirates – kind of," said 0544. He swallowed. "Thomas Tesla."

Gala's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Thomas Tesla!"

0544 shuddered. "So you've heard of him."

Gala put his head in his hands. "Bastard. I don't know why I didn't think of him before. Of course that makes sense – fits his M.O. perfectively," he said. "I feel like an idiot for not thinking of him before. Although, then again, I've never heard of any survivors before – you and your friend are very, very lucky."

0544 shook his head. "He had us a long time."

"How long?"

His eyes started to well with tears. "A year." 0544 nearly lost it and started telling Gala about the details of their living conditions – the holding cell, the experiments, their punishments – especially the shock collars and the Tank – and the way they were treated. He didn't mention they were pirates – maybe Gala already knew Tesla targeted pirates, but if he didn't he was afraid of what the doctor might do if he knew.

Gala patiently listened, his eyes filled with horror but his head nodding along in understanding. The doctor was listening to him, trying to figure out what was making them sick and giving him a sympathetic ear to vent to. It was exactly what they needed in a doctor – not the harsh, borderline abusive treatment of the old women or the panicky shrieking of the little reindeer.

0544's heart pained at the memory. _Chopper . . ._

"It's all right. Continue," said Gala. "I'm listening."

"The worst thing he did was the very first day he had us," 0544 said. He paused, trying to regain his composure. "He had us strapped into chairs and he had Devil Fruits. He forced our mouths open and made up each take a bite." Gala stared in horror. "We thought, well, maybe he was just experimenting on Devil Fruit users, but that wasn't it at all."

"Forcing people to eat Devil Fruits is . . . that's serious," said Gala, his eyes wide in disbelief. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. "But none of that is enough to be killing you." He cleared his throat. "I have no doubts that you're both traumatized. None. And I won't trivialize the horrors you've gone through. But even the way it happened, Devil Fruit consumption is far from lethal. Not unless you've already eaten one."

"That's why we're dying," said 0544. He closed his eyes, covering his mouth. "We don't know what he did but someone there are two powers in each other us. He must've slipped them into our food or something." He felt his eyes start to water. "It's how we got away from him and we were okay for a little while but now it's making us sick and we're going to die."

Gala was on his feet, his hands on his shoulders. 0544 looked at him in confusion. The doctor gave him a small smile. "I don't think you're dying. I don't know what is happening to you, or how he did it, but I know for a fact that the Devil Fruits aren't what's making you sick right now. You don't have Devil Fruit poisoning."

0544 was about to go on but was staring at the doctor in confusion. "What?"

"Devil Fruit poisoning is accompanied by discoloration of the skin – usually purple or blue – and severe bloating. The two of you are skinny and pale. Whatever's making you sick isn't related to Devil Fruits," said Gala. Before 0544 could question him any further, 0543 started to wake up, making whimpering noises as she shuffled into a sitting position. Gala turned, smiled, and waved. "Good morning, sunshine!"

0543 blinked. "Who the fuck are you?"

"He's a doctor – he knows Mac," said 0544. "He says we aren't sick from the Devil Fruits."

"Then what's making us sick?" she asked. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and hobbled to 0544's bed, taking a seat next to him. "If it's not that then why are we so sick right now? What else could be doing this?" She turned to 0544, fear and worry in her eyes. She was tired of not knowing what was wrong with them and what was happening to them. 0544 couldn't blame her for that.

"He told me you were victims of the Science Pirates and he had you for a year. He went into some detail about what he did you, but so far we can't figure out why you're not feeling good right now. What I do know is that, as far as I can tell, you aren't dealing with anything lethal. So, once I get you into good enough shape to travel, we'll see what we can do about getting you back to your island. I'm sure your friends and family are probably worried sick about you."

_Island? _0544 thought. He kept his epiphany to himself. _So Gala DOESN'T know that Tesla goes after pirates. He thinks we're villagers from some random island on the Grand Line that got attacked by the Science Pirates – he has no idea that we're pirates, too._ He couldn't tell if 0543 picked up on this as well, but squeezed her hand for comfort.

"All right. We'll get you home when you can, but for now let's solve the immediate problem," said Gala. Neither had a response – 0544 closed his eyes and 0543 started rubbing the inside of her elbow. The doctor watched her in interest, mouthing something to himself, then paused as a look of realization lit up on his face. He turned and looked at 0544. "You said that they were giving your injections and pills on a regular basis?"

"Yeah. Daily," said 0544. His eyes snapped open. "Oh, shit. I think _I _know what's making us sick."

0543 looked at her companion and the doctor in confusion. "What?"

"Your bodies developed a chemical dependence on whatever it is the scientists were giving you. Sometimes it can take a few days for your body to react to the sudden absence of a chemical it's become dependant on, but this is withdrawal," said Gala. "Everything I'm seeing can be explained by it. Whatever he was giving you is still in your system – for how long or how much I can't say – but your body is looking for more of it."

That news didn't sit well with 0543. "So he made us drug addicts? We're JUNKIES?" asked the young woman. She looked like she was about to cry, but her companion wrapped his arms around her, trying to soothe her. "I didn't . . . oh God . . . I didn't want them . . . it's not fair. . ." The young man started to rub her back as she cried into his shoulder.

"It's okay, we're going to get through it. If I survived my cigarette withdrawal you and I will get through this, okay?" he said soothingly. "We're not going to die – we just have to get through the next couple of days and things we be a lot better. We'll be able to eat without throwing up, and we won't be shaking and shivering, and it'll all be another bad memory."

Gala was surprised to find himself smiling at the pair. The young man seemed so sure that they were going to get through it, and his companion was nodding along, trusting what he was telling her. It was sweet. The young man laid down with the young woman, continuing to talk softly to her as he brushed his hand against her face and told her about all the things they were going to do when they got better.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

A lot of the sick they had at the start (now that I'm thinking about it) probably came from drug withdrawal. Yes, exposure to the elements and not eating or drinking anything for however long the Going Merry had them probably didn't help, but they had also gone a while without getting any of the drugs Tesla had been giving them. As such, most of what's hitting them now is a nasty case of withdrawal.

As Gala explained, it doesn't matter how much Sanji and Nami did not want those shots and pills – they were introduced into their systems regularly and, as far as their bodies are concerned, they are a "normal" presence, and suddenly something that is "normal" has gone missing. Voila. Withdrawal.

Speaking of the sick, no, I have no idea what actually accompanies someone dying from multiple Devil Fruit consumption (I got the idea Jyabura was incorrect when he said "explode"). This chapter was published in late November, early December of 2011 during the Fishman Island arc in the manga. I am under the assumption what I've written here is write so if Oda does explain this later on don't come back to me complaining that I got it wrong. If I'm right, good for me, I guessed a plot of a Japanese children's comic book.

Sorry this took so long – I was struggling with this chapter and how to handle Gala's introduction (there was an alphabet chart at one point . . . it wasn't working). Ria and the girls will be introduced to our heroes next, followed by Braeburn in the chapter after, which will end with some PLOT.

Lastly, if you haven't already, I urge you all to call or e-mail your representative (if you are in the US) to ask them to vote "No" on the Stop Online Piracy Act, or SOPA for short. Look up the bill online because there are plenty of sources that can explain it better than I can.

Dixxy


	4. Normal

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Three: Normal

Gala wasn't able to completely suppress their symptoms, but he gave them some herbal teas that helped dull their nausea to the point where they were able to keep down the food they were given. They were a little disappointed when their diet changed to milder foods, but the doctor promised them both he would buy them the most decadent food on the island when their stomachs were able to handle it for a whole week.

And the mild foods Gala prescribed weren't terrible – mostly things like rice and some overcooked vegetables, but it was still better than the slop Tesla gave them. If they wanted seconds they could have it, and the tea was surprisingly sweet. Most of all, what they were eating and drinking were things they could recognize as real food.

The doctor also gave them two small tubs of lotion. One was supposed to help reduce the appearance of the scars on the backs of their necks, which they applied to each other to make sure they got everything. The other was regular lotion, since their skin was dry and flaky, and even though the young man wasn't fond of the floral smell, it made them both feel a little better.

They still felt sick, but little by little things were starting to get better.

Except for their names.

Without knowing what their names were, Gala wasn't sure how to remove the psychological block the scientist had laid. For the time being, they were stuck without names. Mac and Gala tried to find a good middle ground with "young lady" and "young man" (they refused to use the numbers), which was better than the numbers, but still not the names they so desperately wanted to hear.

The names they so desperately wanted to say.

Mac let them open the curtains in their room (the man was surprised they even felt they had to ask), and for the first time in a long time they saw the light of day. The mayor explained their island had four varied seasons, a rarity on the Grand Line, but he'd heard of islands having seasons that changed by the week. Currently, it was winter and there wasn't much to see but the snow, but they could see trees and a town. Sometimes there would be smoke coming from the town, and it was obvious someone was cooking or baking or trying to stay warm.

It was a normal island with a normal town.

Gala did fill them in on a couple of things. First, he explained that he was going to keep their torturer's identity under wraps for the time being – even Mac wasn't going to be told who had been tormenting them. "I'm going to let the two of you decide when you want to talk about and it with whom you want to talk to," he said kindly.

There was one other thing he mentioned. "I don't want to stop you from getting fresh air – I'm going to strongly suggest getting it, actually, but for now I think for now the trips should be short and close by. It's winter here now and prolonged exposure to the cold probably isn't the best for you. Once you've gotten better and the weather gets a little warmer, run around the island to your hearts' desires."

The young man and the young lady nodded. It sounded reasonable enough.

The second day they were conscious the young man and the young lady explored the mayor's house a little more in depth. Mostly this was limited to the top floor. They knew where the bathroom was already (directly across from their guest room and next to Mac's master bedroom), there were other things to be found on the second floor as well.

Most notably, a library.

It wasn't an enormous room or anything – maybe the size of a large bedroom, but the walls were floor to ceiling book shelves with a desk by the window and two big chairs and a loveseat to sit and read in. The young woman went to get the mayor's permission to explore the library which, once again, the mayor was surprised they felt the need to ask.

"Feel free," he said. He smiled at the delight that had lit up on her face.

"I forgot what a book felt like," said the young man. He was holding a tome filled with adventure stories. He closed his eyes and inhaled. "It smells like dust and old paper and leather. It feels heavy." He started flipping through the pages. "Illustrations of brave men and women battling Sea Kings and monsters, stories about discovering legends and romance . . . I didn't read enough."

The young lady smiled. Of course he was going to enjoy a book about finding hidden legends. She herself had picked up a book on stylistic cartography ("Calligraphy for Cartographers: Making Maps Lovely and Legible") and realized that no matter how much the scientists had tried to strip them of everything that made them who they were, there were two things they hadn't even been able to touch.

The young man was still going to find the All Blue.

The young lady was still going to draw a map of the world.

And they were going to accompany their captain to the One Piece.

"No. Freaking. Way."

The young lady looked up at her companion, who was staring wide eyed at one of Mac's bookshelves. He had a look of shock and disbelief on his face, and at first she was afraid of what he'd seen. Then she saw the shock turn into delight as his face lit up and his lips curled into a grin as he pulled a fairly new looking book from the shelf. "What is it?"

"A brand new Imaki Imahara collection!" he said. He flipped to the first page, looking on eagerly. "It came out ten months ago! It's all new material!" He showed the cover to her, and the young woman clapped happily. "New material! I thought he retired! But no! New stuff! And it's a thick volume!"

"There's gotta be at least a few hundred pages in there," she said, nearly drooling at the thought. The young man sat down on the loveseat and padded the spot next to him. The young woman scrambled over with the blanket she'd dragged from the guest room and wrapped it around their shoulders. Once they were settled and warm, they started to read aloud to each other, taking turns with each poem.

Mac stopped by to check on his patients, and saw they were currently enthralled in a book of poetry that had come in on a trade ship a little while back. The mayor wasn't much of a poetry fan, but picked the collection up on a whim, thinking that maybe he should be reading more poetry to better his cultural understanding. That was important when you were a mayor, right?

Of course he never got around to it. Cobbler was still a puppy at the time, and it was during the peak of their big harvest season – he was busy making sure the harvest festival was organized and the apple pickers were being cared for, all on top of his normal duties as the mayor of the island. He'd completely forgotten about the book.

But seeing the young man and young woman so clearly engaged by the tome, he couldn't help but smile. They didn't seem to notice him, but they were smiling at each other and exchanging happier tones and words as they stayed curled up on the loveseat, reading aloud to each other. He'd never seen them really smile before then, and it made him feel good to see it happen – even if it wasn't with him, they were capable of smiling now.

_I guess they're going to get more joy out of that than I ever will,_ he thought to himself. _But for now, I think it's better to leave them alone for a little bit. I don't want to risk ruining this moment for them._ Lingering just a moment longer, Mac backed out of his library, feeling for the first time that maybe things were going to work out for them.

By the time the young man and the young woman got to the thirtieth page of the collection they decided to take a break, both to save their voices and to savor the newness of the poems. "Definitely not his best work but not bad at all," said the young woman, taking a sip of her tea. "But it was definitely a big improvement over his last collection."

"Tell me about it – I didn't even want to believe he was the one that wrote it. I still don't, actually," he said. "I think his publisher was giving him a tough time and telling him what to write, so I think if that's true it explains the collection. It does seem like he's changed publishers – maybe the whole 'retirement' thing was just a way to get his old publisher out of the picture while he went looking for a new one."

"Possible, but I-"

"THERE you are! We found you!"

The young man and the young woman paused to see that the library had been invaded by two small children – identical twin girls with curly brown hair – each carrying an armload of paper. Neither child could have been older than three. One of them, dressed in pale blue, was leading her sister, dressed in purple. The pale blue one dropped her stack of paper on the coffee table by the love seat, her sister shuffling behind her to gently lay her pile next to her sisters.

"Okay, all better now!" said the one in pale blue, throwing her arms up. "Ta da!"

The one in purple smiled and hid behind her sister.

The young man and the young woman looked at the paper on the coffee table. They were drawings. There were dozens of crayon drawings of cats and butterflies and hearts and birds and stick figures and boats and trees and flowers and too many things that could have been just about anything. They looked up at the artists, who were smiling and antsy as they waited for the reviews.

"Are these for us?" asked the young man.

"Uh huh! All better now!" said the pale blue one.

"Is the yucky gone?" her sister asked quietly.

Before either of the floored patients could respond they heard a panicked woman's cries from downstairs. "Wendy! Sundae! WENDY! SUNDAE! WHERE ARE YOU! MY BABIES!" The girls looked at each other and the one in blue went onto into the hallway, planted her feet firmly on the hardwood floor, and bellowed a response.

"MOMMY! UPSTAIRS!"

The women quieted, but they could hear someone thundering up the stairs in anger as the pale blue twin sauntered back into the room. Moments later, a woman with straight, fiery red hair filled the door frame. "I thought I told the two of you to stay with me!" she scolded. "This isn't your house and there are sick people here – you can't just run around as you please!"

The ringleader of the sisters disagreed and tried to argue her point with her mother. "Mommy, it's okay, they're gonna be fine!" the one in pale blue said. She gestured to the young man and the young woman, a firm look of resolve on her face. "See? They got the pictures! Now they're gonna be all better!"

Their mother looked up, a look of shock and horror on her face. "I am so, so sorry about this!" she said. She stepped into the room and gathered up her children, who complained once they were in their mother's arms. "You two must need your rest and I'm so sorry they didn't . . . well, I mean, they're only two and a half, they don't know any better."

"No, it's all right," said the young woman, who was looking at the drawings. They were simple drawings typical of something a toddler would do, but it was obvious these drawings – each and every one of them – was hand crafted especially for them. "This was really nice, actually." She looked at the young girls and smiled warmly. "Thank you very much for the pictures. No one's given us a present in a very long time."

The girls giggled and looked at their mother in triumph. The woman sighed, nodding her head. "All right, these little ones win this battle, but both of you need to stop wandering away from me when I tell you to sit still for five minutes! I had to talk to Mr. Mayor about something important and it's not nice to make me worry like that!"

"We're sorry, Mommy," they said in unison, hugging their mother.

The mother looked frustrated and tired, but turned her attention back to the mayor's patients. "Let me pawn these two off to Mac for a little bit – I'd like to speak with the two of you as well, actually." She sighed. "This one here with the big mouth is Wendy, and Sundae is my quiet one. You can call me Ria, sugahs."

Once the twins were placed in Mac's care ("Let's play ballerina, Mr. Mayor!" ". . . I'm sorry I don't think I know how to play that game."), Ria more properly introduced herself and her reasons for the visit. She was a seamstress and owned her own clothing shop, where she sold a little bit of everything, including services such as custom tailoring and alterations. Gala and Mac had brought her in to get them a few changes of clothing and jackets so they could go outside.

"Are you sure you can just make us new clothes?" asked the young woman.

Ria clucked her tongue. She'd been taking the young man's measurements when the question had come up. "It's not a problem, sugah. You have nothing right now, so we can figure out payment or not payment or whatever later, I don't give a shit. I can spare a few shirts and pants and skirts no problem." The young woman still looked a little nervous. Ria shook her head. "It's fine. Act of goodwill to draw in good publicity for my business. A lesson to pass onto my girls. It might make me feel good about myself without a bottle of wine or a shirtless, well sculpted piece of man meat who smells like sea salt and cedar. Because it's Tuesday. I don't need a reason, sugah."

The flippant tone took both drifters by surprise. Everything with the scientists had been so cold and calculating, and Mac and Gala had been gentle and patient with them. Ria was . . . not those things. The young woman was the first to try and compose herself. "Well, um, whatever your reasons, thank you so much."

Ria stepped away from the young man to give her a hug. "You're welcome, sugah. Think nothing of it. And now that I have your measurements let's talk about what you two want. Let's say three pairs of pants and three tops to each of you, plus the jackets. If you need any underwear I can do that, too, so I'm going to need to know if he likes boxers or briefs and I'm going to need your preference on panties as well – are you more of a cotton, a silk, or a lace?"

Both drifters stared at Ria in shock. "You want to-"

"Look. If I'm going to do this I'm making sure you have everything. If he likes cotton briefs then a pair of silk boxers isn't going to do him any good. If you like thongs and pushup bras then cotton granny panties and saggy wire-free cups are going to make you uncomfortable. And I don't want the two of you walking around like this," Ria stopped ranting for a second to demonstrate what she meant by walking awkwardly with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

The young man and young woman had matching expressions of bewilderment.

Ria clucked her tongue. "Too much?"

The young woman took a moment to think, then shook her head. "Not at all," she said. She smiled and nodded her head. "Thank you." The young man looked at her oddly, and she just shook her head – she'd tell him later. It was okay if he didn't get it right away. They were used to being treated so differently that this felt new and different. It had been so long since anyone treated them like there wasn't anything wrong with them.

The rest of the visit went smoothly. Clothing preferences were given (both wanted turtlenecks to hide the numbers on their necks) and Ria continued to chat away while the young man excused himself to use the restroom. "There's a lot we need to show you on the island. There are some beautiful nature trails in the wooded areas of the island, and the public orchards are a sight to see. There are little shops and what not around town, too. We'll get you well acquainted soon enough, sugah."

The young woman thought about this. Ria seemed to think they were going to be on the island for a while – was that really how it was all going to play out? She missed their captain and the others so much. She knew the young man did, too. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that wasn't going to be in the cards – at least, not anytime soon.

Chief among the reasons was they didn't know where Luffy was, and he sure as hell didn't know where they were now – he was still probably chasing down that man. Even if somehow he knew where they were, or they knew where he was, it didn't matter – they weren't in any shape to leave with him and the others.

Yeah. They would be on that island for a while.

She looked at her hands. They were thin and bony, and her skin was dry and cracking – the hands of an old woman, not the hands of a young woman who was still in her teens. She clenched her eyes shut, frustrated by what she saw and how she felt. She used to be pretty. She used to be strong and confident and-

"Hey, hey, stop that." The young woman looked up to see Ria sternly looking at her.

"Stop what?"  
>"You were looking at your hands funny and you zoned out a little. Take a deep breath – we're going get you both nursed back to health and show you a good time," said Ria. She smiled. "You have pretty eyes, sugah. And a pretty face, too. So when you get back in fighting shape you and I are going to doll ourselves up one night and go get some of the local men riled up so they buy us drinks."<p>

"I don't think Gala wants us drinking for a while," said the young woman. She couldn't help but notice the doctor was favoring herbals teas and vitamins to heal them and was staying away from more modern drugs, probably afraid of what would and wouldn't react to whatever was still coursing through their system. She was going to need to ask him about that sometime soon.

"Okay, wine for me, club soda for you, and disappoint for them," said Ria, leaning back in her seat. "I mean, most of the men don't want anything to do with me in that way because of the girls – assholes – and you've already got a boyfriend so-"

The young woman held up her hand. "He's not my boyfriend – we're JUST friends," she said.

Ria looked at her oddly. "Really? With the way the two of you hang off each other-"

"No, it's not like that," she said. "We're just really close, but it's completely platonic." She swallowed, hoping she was phrasing things right. "We were friends before . . . it . . . happened, but we got really close while . . . it . . . was going on. And that's how we got to where we are now. But I'm not his girlfriend."

Ria closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pryed." She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Damn it, I'm being an insensitive bitch – you two went through God knows what kind of hell and here I am chatting about you hitting on men and having boyfriends or what now and I'm sure that's the farthest thing from you mind."

"No, no, it's fine, I'm okay with this talk!" said the young woman, making sure she was smiling. "It's been a long time since anyone but my friend has just talked to me like I'm a normal person. You're so relaxed and casual – you're just being yourself around us. Mac and Gala are kind of treating us like we're about to break but you're just . . . you don't have any defenses or walls or masks up and I like that. It's refreshing."

"You sure?"  
>"Positive," said the young woman. "That's why I thanked you before."<p>

"Well then you're welcome, sugah."

Author's Notes

So about Ria.

Ria is largely based on and in some ways is the same "person" as Ria Carmichael, an original character/Mary Sue from my days as a Ronin Warriors fanfic writer – she lacks a filter (unless she's around her children). Although it's true a lot of this didn't come out in the prologue, there wasn't anything there where it would have been appropriate story wise.

Braeburn and the beginning of the PLOT (kind of? What I'm referring to hasn't changed but it's more of a "getting the ball rolling" thing than the plot proper) next chapter.

-Dixxy


	5. Snow

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Four: Snow

It was the worst thing that had happened since they'd arrived on the island.

It was the day after they'd met the seamstress and her family. The morning had been very good, and looked like the start of a great day for the young man and the young woman. Ria had come by to visit, bringing them the clothing they'd discussed. They'd gone downstairs for the first time and sat down at Mac's dining room table for breakfast and lunch. The young man had even been allowed to make the latter – chicken sandwiches, a simple noodle soup, and sliced apples with caramel drizzled over them for dessert.

Seeing the young man back in the kitchen again was one of the best things the young woman had seen in a long time. He hadn't had his hands on so much as a measuring cup in what felt like forever, but it hadn't taken him long at all to familiarize himself with the mayor's kitchen. He relished every bit – baking the chicken, stirring the soup, even just the simplicity of cutting the apples brought a light back into his eyes she hadn't seen since their days as pirates.

The young man had wanted to make dinner, too. Mac, having thoroughly enjoyed the midday meal, didn't object to the notion – he asked his guest if he'd be all right on his own, to which the cook nodded and smiled. Kitchens were his natural environment – by all means, he should have been perfectly fine on his own. The mayor politely excused himself to attend to some work.

The young woman had stayed with him for a bit, watching him cook with content interest. Eventually she felt the need to move around, quietly excusing herself. She used the lady's room, grabbed a book from the study, and headed back to the kitchen. Maybe she could read it aloud while he companion cooked – as much as he loved cooking, he might like the gesture.

As soon as she stepped back into the kitchen, she dropped the book.

There was the kitchen, with raw meat on the counter in the middle of being cut and tenderized, and a bowl of vegetables waiting to be sautéed. Several spices were lined neatly on the counter, ready to season the meal for the evening. The beginnings of an apple pie sat lonely by the fridge, waiting to be filled with apples and cinnamon and a sugar.

The young man was nowhere to be found.

* * *

><p>The young man felt his skin go cold.<p>

It had been a perfectly normal day – the old geezer was yelling at him and the other cooks just like always, Patty and Carne had challenged him to a fight over something stupid (he'd won - easily), and there had been a particularly nasty brawl between the cooks and the latest gang of pirates that thought they could take the Baratie. He was making a large pot of soup when he heard the hissing behind him.

He turned his head and saw a giant snake with the head of a man glaring at him. He felt his hands starting to shake – how could such a monster get into the restaurant unnoticed? Shouldn't there have been screams and shouting and some kind of warning? Someone would have called for him – he was strong, he could fight, but seeing the cold eyes of the snake-man creature made his knees feel weak and helpless.

The head of the snake-man was bald with dark facial hair. There was a cold, scientific look in his eyes that lacked any "good" qualities – compassion, empathy, kindness, none of it. It was like they were nothing but ice. The monster opened his mouth and a serpentine tongue slithered out, flicking the young man's cheek and making his blood run cold. He knew the man with the slithering body.

_Tesla._

The young man covered his mouth, too afraid to scream, and ran out of the kitchen. He ran through the halls of the restaurant as the mad scientist snake chased him, hissing and thrashing about. The young man kept looking back, never really gaining any ground on the monster as it destroyed stoves and doors and tables and chairs in its mad pursuit for him.

He ran as hard and as long as he could, stumbling along the way – the Baratie was infinitely bigger than it should have been, but he kept running anyways. He had to get away from that man, that snake. If he didn't, he was going to get him and do horrible things to him. He'd had quite enough of that – no more, no more. He didn't want to be hurt anymore.

A fallen tree branch got in his way and he tripped and fell into cold, wet snow.

The young man blinked, feeling confused and disoriented as he looked up and saw sky and trees and branches above, not the ceiling of his beloved restaurant. Below him was snow and twigs and mud, and there was even more snow falling all around him. The Tesla snake was nowhere to be found. He sat up, struggling to his feet – the jeans and sweatshirt Ria had given him were wet and cold.

_Wait. That's right. I haven't been on that boat in a long time. Then how . . . _

Realization struck him in the gut. He covered his mouth as horror and dread crept through his veins. It had all been a hallucination, a waking nightmare. He hadn't been on the Baratie. There hadn't been a Tesla snake. The day as he remembered it hadn't gone like that at all. No, Ria had come by with clothing for him and his companion and they got to wear real clothing for the first time in a long time, and he and the young woman had started to explore more of their host's home. He'd gotten to cook in Mac's kitchen – not breakfast, but he had made them lunch, and he'd started dinner.

And then, sometime later . . . he forgot where he was.

And he'd run.

Now he was standing alone, in the middle of the woods on an island he was unfamiliar with.

He looked around and saw his footprints. He had to follow that path back to Mac's house fast – it wouldn't be long before the snow completely swallowed up his trail and he ended up hopelessly lost. Shivering, he crossed his arms tighter, keeping his hands in his armpits, and started the trek back to the mayor's home.

The wind began to blow and the snow started to fall faster.

* * *

><p>The young man didn't know how long it had been, but he had lost the trail to Mac's house – the snow and the wind had made it impossible to see where he was going, and the path he had blazed was either far away or buried in the storm. Worse, it was dusk, and he was quickly losing light as he wandered around in the cold, dark wilderness of the island.<p>

He wasn't dressed for a snowstorm, so he shifted into his half man, half fox form to try and stay warmer. Much to his dismay, it did nothing to help. Unlike the other Zoan users he had seen, his half and half form was sleek and skinny – he was built for speed and agility in this form, not raw strength and muscle. Come to think of it, the fox form he took was also . . . tiny. Maybe some Zoan fruits were just like that, or maybe it was him, or whatever the scientists had done to them. Come to think of it, Chopper's middle form (not counting whatever the Rumble Ball let him do) was much smaller than his reindeer body or his mostly human form.

It didn't matter. Snow and ice passed through his fur like it was nothing, kissing and biting the skin underneath. He shivered. It did him no good. Seeing that his fur coat was useless – perhaps even more so, he guessed, considering that his fur could get wet and freeze on him – he shifted back into his human form.

Was he going to die out there alone in the snow? What would the young woman think? Did they realize he'd disappeared yet? Would Mac go out to look for him? No, no, the mayor seemed to have a bad knee – if he was lucky, maybe Cobbler would find him again and lead him back to the mayor's house.

He fell to his knees. He was getting tired. This wasn't like the time he had been to Drum Island – he was healthier, more fit, and much better equipped back then. He was able to stand up to the harsh conditions. Now, he was soaked and cold and shivering. He wanted to start crying. After everything he'd gone through to get away from that man, after he'd gotten a chance to enjoy a little taste of freedom, he was going to die like a dog anyways.

"Hey! HEY!"

The young man barely heard the voice, but he was aware of something warm and soft being draped over his shoulders. He looked up and saw a figure – a man in a heavy sweater, hat, and scarf – hovering over him. He blinked, too cold to think or protest as the man picked him up, one arm under his knees and the other cradling him to his rescuer's chest, and they started to walk.

* * *

><p>In the darkness, the young man barely recognized their destination as a blacksmith's forge. Was this where his rescuer lived? So then was he the local blacksmith? This piece of information slowly made the cogs of his mind churn, and then the realization dawned on him. Mac had mentioned that one of their rescuers was the island's blacksmith . . . Birchburg? Beebarn? Something like that.<p>

"You're the blacksmith," he said.

"Yes," the man responded. "Did Mac tell you about me?"

The young man nodded as the blacksmith brought them inside of the forge. "He said you were one of the ones who found us – and thank you for that! But, um, sorry you had to save me again," he said dryly as he was placed on some sort of couch or loveseat or something. He pulled the coat Braeburn had draped over his shoulders tighter. _How did I get so weak? People keep needing to rescue me and save me – what happened to the days when I was the one doing that?_ He clenched his eyes shut, remembering all of the times he had saved his friends and the young woman – especially her – during their pirating days.

Now he wasn't even able to be trusted alone and was getting carried around.

"Well you're lucky I was passing through. I was on my way home from a friend's place when I found you, but I gotta ask – what were you doing by yourself in the middle of the woods?" The blacksmith was busy lighting the fire in the fireplace and soon it roared to life, giving the young man his first good look at the blacksmith.

The man was built like Zoro, but at least a head taller than the green haired swordsman and had dark skin the color of chocolate. He was bald, and when he turned his head the young man saw his mouth was framed with nearly trimmed facial hair. Bright emerald eyes glinted back at him, and he gave his charge a wide, boisterous grin. "Relax, I'm going to get in touch with Mac so he and your little girlfriend don't start panicking."

"Shouldn't you just take me back to the mayor's house?"

The man shook his head. "This storm is going to get worse before it gets better. I'm not going out again, and like hell am I letting you go out by yourself like that – even with me as an escort, I don't think that would be good for you," he said. He shook his head. "Now, I'm going to ask again – what, exactly, were you doing out there? It's snowing. You are sick or something. And you're dressed like that."

The young man felt himself get tenser – his shoulders actually hurt from it. He continued to stare at the blacksmith in fear. He didn't want to sound weak. He didn't want to sound like he needed to be taken care of. _I don't need this man's pity._ He sat quietly, his heart racing in his ears. The blacksmith raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to judge you. Were you just getting cabin fever or did something happen and you needed to run?" He lowered his eyes and leaned in closer to the young man. "Seriously. You need to tell me what the fuck happened. Did something happen at the mayor's house? Is anyone else hurt? If I need to be there to protect the mayor you need to tell me."

He still felt tense. "Nothing happened to Mac. Or my friend. Not that I know about."

"So then what happened to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

The blacksmith snorted. "What pride and dignity are you trying to protect?"

"The scraps that I still have."

"Well isn't it better to swallow them for now so you can build yourself back up so you have something more than 'scraps of pride and dignity' to protect? I won't laugh. I won't think any less of you. Unless you hurt someone, then I will hurt you. So just swallow your pride for a second, tell me what happened, and let me help you get better."

The young man stared at the blacksmith in wonder. He remembered sitting on the deck of the Baratie with a different man more than a year ago. He remembered that other man refusing the meal he was giving him even though he was on the brink of starvation, and he remembered the words he told that man.

_"Eat. Don't you think it's better to live now and save your pride for something worth fighting for?"_

". . . dude, what are you crying for?"

The young man swallowed. "The place I was before . . . they were giving us drugs that made us hallucinate. And . . . I don't know why, Gala hasn't been giving us any medicine, but I had another one." He clenched his eyes shut. "I thought I was being chased. And I must have run. And when it was over I was lost in the middle of the woods." He lowered his eyes. "You must think I'm pathetic."

"No, I don't." The blacksmith mulled this new information over. "Hallucinations, huh?"

". . . yeah. Normally it was just stuff like bugs crawling all over me or something but-"

"Hey, hey, try not to talk about it – what if you talking about it make another happen? I don't know how to deal with that, okay?" The blacksmith held up his hands. "First things first. I'm getting you some dry clothes – I apologize, they're probably going to be a little big on you. Then I'm going to call Gala to let him know you've got this hallucination head shit going on, then we'll call Mac so he and your girlfriend know you're okay, and then I'm going to make us some dinner. You hungry?"

"Um, I can cook. You're putting me up for the night so it's the least I can do."

"You sure you don't need the rest? What if you have another hallucination or something?" said the blacksmith, his arms crossed as he looked at the young man with worry. "I don't mind making dinner and you should get some rest – after we get you into some dry clothes. You don't need to do anything for me."

"I love cooking, and if I get started now – or after getting some dry clothes – then we'll have a head start on dinner, right?" He smiled, trying to convince his host. "I've been a cook since I was a kid. I just got to cook again for the first time in a long time this afternoon, and even though I knew I missed it, I didn't realize how much until I was back in one. Besides, it's not like I'm any worse off in the kitchen if I hallucinate again, right?"

"Maybe, but you probably should relax."

"No, really, I do love cooking and it probably would relax me . . . uh . . . Bluebeard? Barnboy?"

The blacksmith laughed and extended his hand. ". . . 'Braeburn'. Marcus 'Braeburn'."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay. And you are?"

The young man frowned. "Mac didn't tell you, huh?" He explained to Braeburn that he and the young woman were having difficulty saying their names, but avoided going into it any further. Braeburn nodded sympathetically, letting the topic lie were it was before gesturing the young man to follow him to dry, warm clothing.

* * *

><p>Braeburn was right – the young man was several sizes too small for the sweater he lent him, and had it not been for a pair of drawstring pants then there would have been another problem, seeing as none of Braeburn's belts could have possibly been small enough to hold up any of the other pants. The clothes he'd been wearing were hung by the fireplace to dry overnight and the two men got to work on their plans for the evening – Braeburn on the Den Den Mushi, the young man in the kitchen.<p>

The calls to Mac and Gala went as expected. Gala said he would get to work on some herbal remedies that might help remove the hallucinatory toxins from their systems, and Mac seemed quite relieved that the young man was all right – the young woman was panicking and he was going to need to calm her down before he called back so the two could talk to each other.

And then Braeburn sat down to dinner and didn't recognize any of the food that had been in his fridge. "Where the hell did you get all this fancy food?" he asked the young man. The young man raised an eyebrow in confusion and pointed at his fridge and pantry. "How the hell did you get this from what I had?"

"I can make do rather nicely with almost anything," said the young man.

Braeburn sat down. The steaks he'd bought looked . . . amazing . . . and smelled like the kind of stuff he used to get at a steakhouse near his hometown . . . except better. But he knew he'd bought subprime meat at a discount, yet this could have gone toe to toe with the finest cuts of fillet mignon. The vegetables still looked bright and colorful instead of dull and grayish and smelled just as wonderful – he could never figure out cooked vegetables and usually just ate them raw. The rice was white and fluffy and buttery smelling, not the porridge-like, gooey mess he usually came up with.

"All of this came from my kitchen?"

"Yeah. It did."

"Well let's put it to the test," said the blacksmith, looking over his plate and the spread on the table. Sure it smelled good but that didn't mean it tasted good, right? But there was only one way to find out. Braeburn started to cut his steak – it was practically falling apart on his fork. His mouth started to water – so tender, just from that little bit. He stuffed a morsel into his mouth, chewed, and then froze. "Oh my God."

The young man's eyes widened. "Is something wrong?"

"This is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth." The young man grinned as Braeburn continued to chew and swallow, then tried the vegetables. He chewed, stopped, and declared he was wrong – no, THOSE were the best things he had ever put in his mouth. The young man laughed and sat down to his own plate while Braeburn tried to articulate the sensations of taste going on in his mouth. "It's like . . . it's like . . . delicious! It's all . . . soft and meaty and . . . vegetable-y . . ."

"You like?"

"I might have a hard time bringing you back to Mac's house after this."

"Speaking of Mac," the young man started, "how is he? And my companion? Is she okay?"

"Mac thinks she'll be okay – she was a little panic stricken when you vanished on her, but he's going to calm her down and call us back in a little bit so the two of you can talk," said Braeburn. "You two must be really close. I'm sorry the storm's keeping you from her. But it's better to wait the storm out than risk a tragedy."

As they ate, the young man thought about their talk. "Den Den Mushi," he said.

"Huh?" Braeburn asked after washing down another mouthful of steak.

"Den Den Mushi! I can call-"

Braeburn held up his hand, an apologetic frown on his face. "Sorry. I know what you want to say but that that won't work here," he said quietly. "Some of the seabed surrounding this island has a mineral that gives off a strong magnetic field the Den Den Mushi have a hard time communicating through. They can talk fine with other snails on the island, but the farthest they can go is only about a knot or two away from the shore. Believe me, if we could we would have had you guys contact your families already."

The young man thought. He shrugged, deciding that he and the young woman would figure something out, like a letter or something, in the coming days. Braeburn was still looking at him, a slight hint of nervousness in his eyes – the young man decided to clear his throat and change the subject. "So, um . . . you like the food?"

"I think it might be better than sex."

* * *

><p>Braeburn insisted on cleaning up after dinner and told his guest to make himself at home, which the young man took as an invitation to do some exploring. Not that he expected the blacksmith to be living in a palace worthy of "exploration", it was something to do and get his mind off the events of the day. He'd already talked with his companion for a short bit, but she sounded exhausted and upset and everyone thought it might be best if she get some rest. Braeburn promised to bring the young man back bright and early, which seemed fair enough.<p>

He found himself in what he guessed would have been a spare bedroom had more people lived at the force, but instead of a bed and dresser, he found musical instruments. He cocked his head to the side. Braeburn had briefly mentioned he was in a band that was going on a hiatus during dinner but hadn't expanded much on it. _This must be their practice space._

There were several books of sheet music – mostly real and fake books – and a set up "stage" area with a microphone, a bass, a guitar, and a full drum kit. There was an upright piano in a corner and a tuning fork hanging by the door. The room was dark and lonely, probably from lack of use over the hiatus. He left the music room, but was amused that Braeburn had dedicated an entire room in his small home to his hobby.

He found himself back in the living room and sat on the love seat again, looking around. It had a very manly, log cabin feel to it with lots of dark, rustic colors and earthy tones. The throws and rugs were all slightly off forest greens that didn't quite match but showed signs of effort. On the mantle of the fireplace were a few framed pictures, including one of Ria and her daughters and a few of her daughter's "masterpieces", very similar to the ones the twins had given him and his companion the day before.

It seemed like the blacksmith was somewhat close to the seamstress and her children, but it didn't seem like the family was living at the forge so he probably wasn't her husband. _I wonder what's going on between Braeburn and Ria? Are they dating or something? Family, maybe? _He frowned – he'd figure it out later.

The young man's eyes wandered to a corner and caught something interesting. Seeing a large hammer in a blacksmith's home shouldn't have been a surprise, but this wasn't a working hammer – at least, not that kind of work. He stood and walked over to get a closer look. This hammer wasn't a tool – this was probably a weapon, some kind of war hammer.

For one, it was way too big to be practical for hammering out a sword or a horse shoe. The head alone was easily as big as his torso – probably even bigger, considering his thinner build –with worn leather wrapped around the grip. The head was decorated a little, and strangely it looked like it had been crudely painted some time ago, hiding some of the designs. Odd, perhaps, but there were other details that couldn't be painted over, like some carvings and an almost golden sheen covering the blunt end of the weapon.

"I see you've found Rosalie."

The young man nearly jumped as Braeburn chuckled behind him. "I, um-"

"Relax, I'm not going to attack you or anything crazy like that – I like you and I don't hurt people I like." Braeburn slid beside him and crossed his arms, touching the tip of the handle. "I haven't had a need to use her in a long time and, God willing, I won't for a long time to come. Maybe never if I'm lucky. But she's still a lovely hammer, isn't she?"

"I guess? I don't know much about hammers. Except for some mallets you use in the kitchen for tenderizing and crushing, and I know what carpenter's hammers look like but I don't do much with my hands that would hurt them – I wouldn't be able to cook if I did," said the young man. "I mean, I guess it's a pretty hammer? It's got gold on it. Right?"

"Ah. That's not gold. That's orihalcum. I'm not sure which is harder, but it's in the same league as seastone," said Braeburn. "But just a little bit – it adds a little bit of an edge but it's still mostly steel. Orihalcum's way too expensive and too rare to make an entire hammer head out of– most of the things sold as 'orihalcum' are really just plated steel or some kind of alloy, so it's not the real deal. In this case it's a layer of plating on the blunt end."

"Oh," said the young man. He thought briefly back to the first battle he'd watched Luffy fight, against that asshole Don Krieg and his supposed "orihalcum" armor. Even as strong as Luffy was back then, it made sense that his captain was fighting an opponent with a knock off and not the real deal. "Just how rare is it?"

"Sometimes you find a nugget in a mine, but that's about it. That's why you don't have weapons or armor made of solid orihalcum – there just isn't enough of it," said Braeburn a little sadly. However, the dullness faded as he spoke again. "But I've heard stories about a mine full of it somewhere, just waiting to be found – the Mine of Volunder. You could make the best stuff in the world. Armor, weapons, kettles, jewelry, I don't care I would have a field day with a whole mine of unrefined orihalcum at my fingertips. "

The young man closed his eyes. "Have you ever heard of the All Blue?"

The blacksmith paused to think. ". . . I think so? It's like . . . something to do with fish?"

"It's a legendary sea where fish from all of the blues – East, West, North, and South – swim. For a cook, it's like your orihalcum mine – a dream, a paradise, because you have the freshest fish from all over the world right there waiting to be caught. You could make all kind of dishes that you normally couldn't make. But no one knows where it is, and a lot of people believe it doesn't even exists." He grinned. "But that's the reason I came to the Grand Line in the first place – if it's anywhere, it's got to be here."

Braeburn smiled. "Quite the story."

"It's out there," said the young man. He closed his eyes and smiled. "I'm going to find it."

"Of course you will. But let's get you healthy again first – it's not going to go anywhere in the meantime," said Braeburn. He laughed. "It's an ocean, right? They can't move, can they?" His eyes widened. "I think." He coughed. "Let's assume it's not going to go anywhere – if it's out there now, it'll be there when you're ready to set sail."

The young man nodded dreamily. "And the Mine of Volunder?"

"Pff. Anyplace with rocks is a likely candidate. If I ever tried to look, I'd be searching forever."

The young man frowned. "You won't ever find it if you don't try."

Braeburn sighed. "Yeah . . . I guess . . . but I don't know where I'd start looking, you know?" He turned to the young man and forced a smile. The young man tried to force one back, but could see that his host was putting on the happy face for his benefit. "In the meantime would I put some water on for tea or coffee or something – let me know what you'd like, okay?"

The young man nodded, but frowned as the blacksmith headed into the kitchen. What was holding him back? _Come on, Braeburn, I can see it in your eyes – you want to find that mine just as bad as I want to find the All Blue – that must be your dream. So what's keeping you from searching for Volunder's Mine?_

* * *

><p>Morning came, and the young man hadn't slept a wink.<p>

Braeburn nearly panicked when he found him looking worse than before, with heavy bags under his eyes and a lost, dazed look on his face. Despite taking the couch and letting his guest have the bed, thinking he'd be more comfortable there, it seemed this had done nothing for him. Thinking he had screwed up badly but knowing Gala would be headed to Mac's that morning anyways, he gathered up the young man and piggy backed him all the way to the mayor's house.

The young man was quiet, absently looking around as they walked now that he was outside in better light. The storm had passed and the sun was out – it was still cold, but at least it was sunny. He squinted – between the snow and the sun, it was hard to see, and he could only barely make out what was going on around him.

Trees. Ocean. Sky. Clouds. Snow.

He could see parts of the town to his right, but it was kind of far away and between his lack of sleep and still hazy eyesight, it was very blurry – he could only barely make out the some chimney smoke and some other moving things – could have been flags or laundry or who knew what. He was sure he and the young woman would see plenty of it once they got to explore the town some more when they were feeling better.

Braeburn had kept mostly quiet, focusing on getting him back to Mac's house quickly. He hadn't given the young man time to protest the piggy back ride, and in some ways he didn't really care. He was tired, dizzy, and truth be told he wasn't sure if he had the endurance to go however far it was to the mayor's anymore.

He clenched his fist. _I will get that endurance back. All of it._

"You okay there?" Braeburn asked.

"Huh?"

"You have a death grip on my jacket."

"Oh. Sorry."

The young man was still a bit out of it, but wanted to talk. "Did you sleep well?"

"Meh. Couches aren't great but I've slept on worse."

_They're a lot better than cold floors._ "That's good."

"Hey, I appreciate that you want to talk, but you probably need the rest – even if you aren't able to sleep right now, try to relax. I'm not insulted – honest. I'll come by with something from town Gala would probably say 'no' to," Braeburn said with a laugh. "Or anything else you want, really. I don't mind."

"Thanks."

* * *

><p>The mayor's house came into view, and Braeburn hurried his pace. It was only moments later he found himself being let into Mac's living room – or at least, a very dark and hard to see Mac's living room that was slowly getting lighter as his eyes adjusted to the lack of white – where Braeburn finally put him down.<p>

He was vaguely aware of Mac putting his hands on his shoulders and asking if he was okay before he felt himself getting side tackled by the young woman, who buried her face in his shoulder and held him tightly – she was crying, but happy to see him. Mac was a little taken aback, but politely backed away as the young man returned the embrace.

"I was scared," she said. "You just disappeared on me."

"I'm sorry," he said, resting his head on hers. "I didn't want to."

"I know."

"I'll try to not do that again."

Mac and Braeburn barely caught them as they started to collapse, finally falling asleep now that they knew the other was safe.

Things were peaceful at Mac's for a while. The young man and young woman were carried back up to the guest room and laid out on the beds (although at an undetermined time later one of them ended up in the other's anyways – they just didn't seem like they could stay comfortable without the other close at hand) and Gala popped over to see how the drifters were doing. Ria and her children stopped by sometime later with a few more changes of clothing, then left with the blacksmith shortly after. The doctor left as well, and for several hours the mayor's house was quiet.

Until there was a knock on his door.

Mac looked at his wall clock – it was late for someone to be looking for him short of an emergency, but there were no dire shouts about a fire or a death or an accident so that didn't seem likely. Cobbler looked at him from his position at the bottom of the stairs in curiosity. "I don't know, boy," he said. He got up from his chair, walked to the door, and cleared his throat. "Hello? May I ask who's calling at this late hour?"  
>"I need to speak with the mayor of this town. I was told you were him."<p>

Mac's eyes widened. _Uh oh. A non-native. _"Once again, who are you?"

"Please, sir. If you cooperate then I will not be forced to use aggression."

Mac swallowed. He opened the door and saw a pair of people in white lab coats waiting for him. The man was bald with black facial hair and the woman had blonde hair and thickly rimmed glasses. Cobbler walked over to investigate, saw them, and growled. "Cobbler, down!" Mac snapped. "All right, who are you and what are you after?"

The man grinned. "You may have heard of me. Does the name 'Thomas Tesla' ring a bell?"

Author's Notes

I apologize this took so long to get out. The next chapter will be en route to beta VERY shortly, possibly even by the time you're reading this.

The name of Braeburn's mine came from a quick Google search on blacksmiths to see what kinds of blacksmiths existed in various mythologies. I settled on one from Norse/German legends and then adjust the spelling a little. Otherwise I was having trouble coming up with good, One Piece-like names for it that made sense.

I purposely didn't look up Sanji's words to Gin, so it's a paraphrasing of what was the translators for the anime and/or manga put there and what Oda and Toei writing team originally wrote (and of course I don't actually OWN One Piece so most of these characters aren't mine ANYWAYS but y'all knew that).

As for the last part . . . it'll be okay. Trust me.

Dixxy


	6. Another Visitor

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Five

Between fitful sleeping and the knock on the door downstairs, the young lady and the young man were both awakened. Sleepily, the young woman looked at the clock and tried to mull over the late hour. "It's really late," she whispered, looking at her companion in sleepy curiosity. "Who in the world would be calling Mac now?"

The young man shrugged. "He's the mayor. Maybe it's an emergency?"

The sound of the caller's voice was soft, but familiar. It took them a few moments to recognize who it was, and a few more moments to believe it. They slowly turned their eyes towards each other and saw fear and panic mirrored in the expression of their companion. Their hands were shaking, and they felt their throats dry out as their blood froze.

They weren't imagining things.

It was _him_.

Mac didn't know who it was, but they knew. The voice was calm and scientific, precise in its choice of words, like slicing through the air with a scalpel as if it were flesh. The sound felt surreal, like it shouldn't be real, but without a doubt in either of their minds, it was him. Downstairs, Mac was talking with that man.

_Tesla._

The conversation between Mac and Tesla floated up the stairs and through the floorboards, and they were able to hear enough to understand what was going on. Tesla was looking for them. He'd figured out their boat landed on Apple Island and obviously the mayor was the first person he should talk to – wouldn't a mayor know what was going on in his own town?

The young woman flung herself at the young man, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. "No," she whispered. She felt him pull her closer to him, and could feel he, too, was sobbing. Tesla was going to find them. And they'd be taken back to the ship and thrown into the Tank and maybe they wouldn't even be allowed to see each other in the holding cell anymore. Neither of them, especially the young woman, was going to spend another moment without some kind of seastone restraint.

Freedom had been in their grasp. And now it was going to be snatched away again.

* * *

><p><em>2 hours earlier<em>

* * *

><p>"So you made friends with the young man last night, huh Braeburn?" said Ria, sitting with her legs crossed at the blacksmith's kitchen table. She was idling sipping from her coffee cup, letting her left foot swing back and forth during their idle conversation. After leaving Mac's, the group had gotten dinner at the Cider Mug followed by dessert at Braeburn's. The twins were now asleep on his couch while their mother and her friend talked. Naturally, the blacksmith's "sleepover party" came up.<p>

"Wasn't how I intended to befriend either one of them, but yeah, you could say that," he said. "Poor guy – wonder what the hell did that to mess them up so bad in the head like that?" The blacksmith added another lump of sugar to his coffee and rubbed his forehead. "Sometimes I just don't get people."

"Hmm?"

"Whoever did whatever that was to them gave them something that causes hallucinations."

"You don't mean like, acid or magic mushrooms or cactus juice or something?"

Braeburn sighed. "Maybe. Point is, whatever it was is still in his system at least – that's why he ran out on Mac last night. He wasn't trying to run away from the mayor or abandon his friend – if anything I don't think either one of them took well to being away from each other last night – but because he thought someone or something was chasing him and he was trying to get away from that."

"So he was running away from what amounts to . . . nothing," said the seamstress. She sighed, leaning back in her chair and stretching. "I can't imagine seeing things that aren't there and being so terrified of them I just start running away like that. He must have been terrified." She leaned forward and rested her head on the table. "Makes some of the shit we've gone through seem like child's play, you know?"

"We still know so little about what happened to them."

"You trying to downplay what happened to them?" asked Ria.

"I'm thinking that you might have made an understatement," said Braeburn. "But like I said . . . something happened to them, and I don't get it. When he was here last night, the young man made me dinner as a thank you. Ria, it was . . . amazing. I haven't had food that good in years. This guy is a TALENTED chef." He clenched his eyes shut. "Even with natural talent, he must have spent a long time – years, probably – learning how to use spices and how to handle meat and when to do what. And what's more it's not just a livelihood for him – it's his passion. He loves cooking. Ria, don't you see? He had a LIFE before something or someone pulled him away from it and did that to him. I just don't understand why someone would do that."

Ria cleared her throat, her playful tone melting into a stoic stare. "I know, Braeburn. You know how well I know that." She looked back into the living room where her girls were sleeping and frowned. "This is the Great Pirate Era, and we know firsthand most of them of . . . not very nice. There are a lot of bad people in this world, and a lot of good people get hurt because of it. The best we can do is keep the ones we love safe."

Braeburn looked forlornly out the kitchen window towards the sea. "Yeah. I know."

The seamstress looked away. "I know you miss-"

"Pirate ship!"

* * *

><p><em>The present<em>

* * *

><p>Mac's eyes widened. Yes, yes that name did ring a bell. Tesla was a pirate notorious for cruelly torturing other pirates in the name of what he called 'science'. What the hell was he doing outside his front door? <em>Why is this man here? What could he possibly want with this island! <em>He swallowed as he nodded in recognition.

Tesla grinned, moving his way inside the house. The woman nodded at Mac, moving with her boss. Cobbler continued growling at them, resulting in the pirate captain giving the dog a cold glare. Mac wasn't sure if he should shut the door behind them or not – here, in his living room, was the crazed mad scientist of the Science Pirates, THOMAS TESLA!

Casually, Tesla sat down in Mac's favorite chair, folding his hands and neatly placing them in his lap. "It seems to me that you've heard of me and my work – am I correct?" Dumbly, Mac nodded, feeling himself begin to sweat around his collar. "Good, then. Please, sit down and relax – I have no ill intentions against you or any of your island's residents."

Mac sat down on the couch, taking a few deep breaths. He wasn't sure he trusted Tesla to keep his word, but for the moment he needed to stay calm. This was just what he needed – one day two kids in really rough shape wash up on his shore like they'd been through some kind of science experiment gone horribly wrong and then a few days later Thomas Tesla shows up looking for something-

_Oh, FUCK._

* * *

><p><em>1 hour, fifteen minutes earlier<em>

* * *

><p>Braeburn and Ria had stayed by the window in the blacksmith's kitchen, watching as the pirate ship made its way closer and closer to the shore, eventually docking a little bit off the beach – they would need to take a smaller boat to shore if they planned on making landfall. And once the pair saw something being lowered into the water, that confirmed the theory.<p>

The seamstress scoffed. "Well, whoever those idiots are they have balls of steel coming here," said Ria, keeping a stone grip on her long empty coffee cup. "I can't believe they think it's a good idea here. Are they fucking blind or just stupid?" She sighed. "Well, maybe they're just low on supplies and they can't get to Water 7 on what they have and made a do or die decision."

"Well it's dark and a little foggy . . ." said Braeburn. "Maybe 'blind' isn't too far off."

"I guess that's possible. Still, can you make out the Jolly Roger?" said Ria.

Seeing she had a good idea, Braeburn started to fish through his kitchen junk drawers, seeking out a telescope or a pair of binoculars. After finding a toy telescope that he suspected belonged to one of the twins and deciding it would do for now, he lengthened the makeshift tool and peered out the window. "It's wearing safety goggles, and the cross-bones are a pair of bubbling test tubes instead of, well, bones."

Ria thought. "That sounds like the Tesla Pirates," she said. "They're known for-" Ria's eyes snapped open in sudden realization and her tone changed for the dramatic as she grabbed the blacksmith's elbows and looked at him in panic. "Braeburn! Did you finish the repairs on Romulus and Remus! Is Rosalie ready to go?"

"What?"

"Tesla runs experiments on people!"

Braeburn felt his spine go cold. "He's going to attack the island?"

"No, you idiot! Mac's guests!"

The blacksmith felt the world slow down. He HAD heard of the Tesla pirates before, and Ria was right – running experiments on people was what they were best known for. And Mac's guests . . . everything was falling into place. The hospital gowns they'd been wearing. The numbers on the backs of their necks – serial numbers or something.

_Oh my God._

"That must be what happened to them, and now he's-"

"-your swords are in the forge and Rosalie is in the living room. Let's-"

". . . Mommy . . . Uncle Braeburn . . . why are you yelling?"

The adults froze when they realized the twins were awake . . . and couldn't be left alone.

* * *

><p><em>The present<em>

* * *

><p>The young woman was afraid she was going to phase through the floor just like she had a week or so ago, only this time she'd be falling right into Tesla's clutches and not away from him like before. She whimpered at the young man, clinging to his arms and his pajamas. "I don't . . . I don't want to fall through the floor . . ." She barely spoke, wondering if young man could even hear her.<p>

The young man evaluated her for a few seconds, his eyes wide. He pulled her tight, mumbled "trust me" into her ear, and gently, slowly, lifted them off the bed. The young woman almost shrieked, but he was quick to cover her mouth, shaking his head vigorously "no". She nodded, still fighting back sobs as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

They floated there, the young man concentrating to keep her from falling through the bed, through the floor, and into Tesla's lap. He couldn't let that happened to her. Damn it, he hated his Devil Fruit – no, Devil Fruits – but right now one of them was keeping them safe, even if only for a few more minutes. Tesla finding out they were there would . . .

He couldn't stomach the thought.

* * *

><p><em>45 minutes ago<em>

* * *

><p>Ria called in a favor from Kerry Pippin, one of the young ladies who worked in her shop part time, to watch the twins at the forge – she was not letting Braeburn go after Tesla alone, but there was no way she was going to leave the castaways to just get picked up by him and dragged back to whatever hellhole he'd kept them in for who knew how long. Once Kerry arrived, the seamstress kissed her children goodbye, promised she would come back, and left with the blacksmith, ready to fight.<p>

"If he figures out what happened here they're in deep trouble – the more I think about it the more I'm convinced they're victims of that son of a bitch, and I've got a bad feeling that boat you found them in is one of his own lifeboats – if he sees it he's going to know that they're here!" said Ria. She was moving quickly, resolved to not let anything bad happen to the people they'd worked so hard to save. "We've got to do something if he starts snooping around for them!"

"It's been a long time since we've picked a fight, Ria," said Braeburn. "What good are we going to do them? These are pirates – they probably got into a fight with a bunch of Marines as recently as this morning! They're in much better shape to fight than we are!" The two were marching as fast as they could through the snow towards the mayor's. The blacksmith's house was closer on foot than where the Tesla pirates were docked, but they'd lost time finding someone to watch the twins and the path of the mad scientist would be clear of snow.

"Well we're the only people on the island who have a CHANCE against Tesla right now – the sheriff's only good for throwing the occasional drunk into the cooler for a night and at best we'd get an uncontrolled angry mob with pitchforks and torches out of the farming folk here – we don't even have a lot of hunters around here, Braeburn! We're IT, practice or no practice!"

Braeburn swallowed. She was right. As rusty as they were, the island didn't have anyone in town who could defend it at that moment, and the mayor's house was one of the worst places those drifters could be right now. Mac was in no position to stop Tesla if the pirate figured out his escaped prisoners were in his house – oh sure he would try to do something, but the last time he'd tried to defend anyone he'd gotten himself hurt.

"I can't believe I didn't think of him sooner," said Ria, mentally beating herself for the oversight.

"We can't worry about that now – we need to make sure we don't get ourselves killed – or dragged onto that ship ourselves – and protect Mac's house!" Braeburn shot a serious look at the seamstress. "Promise me this – if it gets bad, you get the hell out of there, you got that? You need to keep yourself safe for Wendy and Sundae. If things get nasty, run away. Understood?"

Ria nodded – she didn't want to abandon Braeburn, but he was right. "I guess I'll-"

"Hey, what are you two doing out so late? You look like you're on a war path!"

The blacksmith and seamstress stopped, turned, and couldn't believe their luck.

* * *

><p><em>The present<em>

* * *

><p>"Good – you seem a bit more focused. Now, here is my problem – two of my specimens escaped my ship a few nights ago. All I need you to do is tell me whether or not they landed on your island, or if I need to search another nearby island for them. The research on them was quite exciting and I would like to get back to it as soon as possible," he said. He looked at Mac expectantly, grinning widely and leaning forward.<p>

Mac smiled back. __!__

"Well?"

"Who told you to come find me?" He had to stall until he thought of something. Cobbler was still angry, gnarling his teeth at the scientist. Mac reached down and held the dog's collar. "Calm down, boy." _I know you don't like him – I don't either. But it's too dangerous – we can't risk the castaways upstairs. It's not fair to play games with their freedom if this man is involved._

Tesla scoffed. "Some drunken whore wandering around on the beach – sober enough to give good directions, though. And wouldn't you know it, on my way here we came across one of my lifeboats. Since the only lifeboat that's gone missing in recent days is the one 0543 and 0544 used to escape I have no choice but to conclude they are here."  
>Mac closed his eyes. More stalling time. "Well, what did they look like?"<p>

"0543 is a female around nineteen to twenty years of age. 0544 is a male around twenty to twenty one years of age," he said. "The girl has a tattoo on one arm. They were recently shaved so they don't have a whole lot of hair on their bodies right now." Tesla began to drum his fingers together, looking at Mac expectantly. "I already told you I saw my lifeboat. I know they're here. So stop stalling and tell me where they are!"

* * *

><p><em>35 minutes earlier<em>

* * *

><p>" . . . and that's what's going on. You've gotta do something!" said Ria.<p>

"You said it's a young man and a young woman?"

"Yes. Mac didn't want to spread around what happened but-" Braeburn started.

"Describe them to me. _Now_."

"Both of them were shaved bald but the young woman is growing in orange hair and has a tattoo on her left shoulder. The young man is growing in blonde hair and has eyebrows that curl up on the left side. They're both pretty skinny and in rough shape, but have gotten better since we found them a few days ago," said Ria. She widened her eyes. "Wait, you do know them do you-"

"Not personally, but I know someone who's been looking for a pair matching that description – well, mostly – who were kidnapped by Tesla a little over a year ago. If they escaped alive, and it sounds like they did, I'll eat my shirt if he's not looking for them. Here's what you two need to do – find a place to keep an eye on that ship without getting spotted. I will make sure that everyone on this island – including the escaped prisoners – is safe. When he leaves, come find me at the mayor's house. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Ria and Braeburn said, heading off on their new assignment.

* * *

><p><em>The present<em>

* * *

><p>That was it.<p>

Mac was going to turn them over to Tesla, either out of fear for his island or fear for his own life. The young man was certain the man wouldn't turn them over to be evil – he had been far too nice to them. He'd given them real food – juice, apples, soup, crackers, rice, even some fish the other night – and much more than they could have asked for. They had pajamas. They were given privacy to give each other sponge baths. They had a BED to sleep on.

But Mac didn't have a reason to do any of that for them. He didn't owe them anything, and he didn't know them. Given the choice between protecting his island and his own life or theirs, the choice seemed obvious. They couldn't hate or blame him for that. They didn't want anything bad to happen to Mac or Gala or Braeburn or Ria and her girls . . . it wouldn't be fair to any of them.

But the little they'd gotten back in the last few days was going to be gone and they'd be back to where they were before. Back to the holding cell. Back to the experiments, and they might have been worse than before now Tesla knew the second powers had "woken up" or whatever. He clutched at the hem of the young woman's pajamas, feeling the fox wanting to come out. He thought he could feel his face moving, thought he could feel fur sprouting from his hands.

_No, not now!_ He had to keep the young woman floating so she didn't sink through the floor. He didn't know if he could use both powers at once – if he turned into the fox against his will they might be done for. Even if the young woman didn't phase through the floor Tesla might hear the creak of them landing on the mattress and demand to know what he had just heard.

And that was when he heard what might as well have been the voice of an angel.

* * *

><p>"What's going on here?"<p>

Mac could have sobbed. _You always did have the best timing . . ._

* * *

><p><em>Eight years ago . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em>The town was still a mess.<em>

_ Mac was amazed that, after so many years of living on the Grand Line – born and raised – that this was the first time his precious home had been brutalized by pirates. Entire neighborhoods were reduced to scorched woods and memories as the townspeople sifted through the rubble for their loved ones. They were leaderless in the wake of that yellow-bellied Mayor Egle attempting to flee the island – Mac felt no sympathy when the pirates sunk his ship. No one knew the death toll yet, but there would be plenty of work in the graveyard in the days to come. Even with a Marine flagship in sight of the island, their cries for help went unnoticed._

_ But pride of the island, the orchards, were untouched. All because of . . ._

_ "Hey, how's your knee?"_

_ Mac turned his head to see the island's savior sitting beside him in Dr. Fuji's infirmary, a smile on his face and a mug of hard apple cider in hand. The town record clerk struggled to sit up, the other man wincing in sympathy. "I'm okay. Marines, pirates, and bounty hunters survive gunshot wounds all the time – this is nothing, right?"_

_ "No offense, Mac, but you're not in half the shape even the weakest of those guys are in," said the other man, crossing his legs. "For someone like me, then yeah it's nothing, but for you? Doc Fuji's really worried about you. You need to keep weight off it if you ever plan on walking again." His concern shifted to a grin. "That said, you had some balls of steel out there."_

_ "I got my ass kicked in about two seconds," said Mac._

_ "Yes. Yes you did. But you had the guts to get out there and stand up to those pirates, knowing that you had next to no chance of winning," said the other man. He threw back the rest of the cider. "And I respect that. I like you – you're really weak but you've got a lot of spunk!" Mac frowned as the man laughed at him. "No, no, don't look at me like that – I really like you. There are much stronger men out there who don't have half the guts you do."_

_ "But I didn't do anything. So many people are dead-"_

_ "- but you stalled them a little and probably saved a few lives, too," said the other man. He grinned. "That's actually why I'm here. Since the mayor fled and got himself cannoned to death the sheriff rallied who was left for a little election, and guess who won by a landslide." Mac's eyes widened in disbelief._

_ "What! But I'm just a records clerk!" he said._

_ "No, you're the mayor."_

_ "I don't know how to lead the island!" said Mac. He closed his eyes. "If you hadn't shown up when you did this island would have been destroyed! You protected everyone . . . and the orchards. Not so much as a leaf was harmed. You stopped the bloodshed. You saved this town. Why didn't they make you the mayor?"_

_ "I don't want to be a mayor."_

_ "Then why do you think I do?"_

_ "I like this island. But not like you. You have passion, and everyone sees that. Sure, maybe you don't know all the details about how to file paperwork or whatever it is mayors do, but you love this island and they trust you to make decisions about the town and the people here. That's why they made you mayor."_

_ Mac closed his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Those idiots." He turned his attention to the other man. "You know, I'm going to need to discuss it with everyone – guess I need to schedule a town hall, don't I? – but I'd actually like to ask you something." He laid back down, getting tired. "The Marines left us for dead. Bounty hunters would charge us an arm and a leg. But you . . . I think I trust you."_

_ "What are you saying?"_

_ "I'd like to ask the town if they'd like it if Apple Island became your turf and we flew your flag."_

* * *

><p><em>The present<br>_

* * *

><p>Cobbler perked up at the sound of the new voice and woofed. He rushed to the front door, sitting before this newest visitor with his tail wagging in excitement and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He was rewarded with a dog treat and a scratch behind the ears. "Hey there, Cobbler – you've gotten big since the last time I saw you!"<p>

Tesla and Curie looked like they were going to be sick.

Mac got to his feet. "Shanks, what a surprise! How are you, my dear friend?"

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

I told you it would be okay.

You will get an explanation (and possibly Tesla peeing himself) next chapter.

-Dixxy


	7. Shanks

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Six

"Rah, Red Haired Shanks?" Tesla stared at the red haired pirate who ruled the oceans as an emperor in fear. Of all the men to show up, RED HAIRED SHANKS had to interrupt him? Well, he supposed ANY of them showing up would be a bad thing – ALL of them were terrifyingly powerful men (and . . . woman, if she could be called that) that Tesla made a point to avoid if possible.

And now one of them was hugging his closest lead to 0543 and 0544.

Shanks returned Mac's embrace, though when he spotted Tesla he frowned. "Thomas Tesla, captain of the Science Pirates," he greeted coldly. He put his hand on his hip and stepped forward, watching the scientist and his first mate carefully. "What, exactly, are the two of your doing on my island?"

The scientists paled. "_Your_ island?" asked Tesla, his voice squeaking like a mouse.

Mac nodded. "Several years ago the Red Hair Pirates rescued us from another group of pirates. The Marines didn't do anything to save us, and Shanks offered his protection in exchange for food and liquor stores every few months. We've been flying under his flag ever since – it's better protection than a Marine base since most pirates steer clear of us when they see it. In a sense, yes, this IS his island," said the mayor, straightening his glasses.

"Exactly as he said," said Shanks, taking the seat across from Tesla. He crossed his legs and propped his chin in his hand. "Now, Tesla, tell me exactly what it is you're doing here. If you've suddenly decided to start experimenting on civilians then I highly suggest you rethink that idea – double if you're looking at this island or any of the other islands flying my flag. I don't need to tell you that you wouldn't like what would happen to you if you tried."

"No, of course not," said Tesla. He voice was calm, but his hands were trembling.

Shanks nodded, eyeing the other pirate coolly. "Good. Now what do you want from Mac?"

Tesla swallowed. "A few days ago my most recent specimens escaped from my ship."

The emperor narrowed his eyes. "What did they look like?"  
>"A male and a female. Mostly bald – we did some surgery about a week or two ago. Wearing medical examination gowns. Numbers 0543 and 0544 burnt into the backs of their necks. On our way to this home we spotted one of my lifeboats washed up on the shore – since the only one I'm missing is the one they escaped on, I can only assume they're here," Tesla said quickly and precisely. He stared at Shanks with intensity and hesitation. "Have you found them? I'm willing to pay you handsomely for them."<p>

Shanks stared at Tesla for several seconds, closed his eyes, and shook his head. "Sorry to tell you this, Tesla, but I think my men and I picked them up a few nights ago. They were barely alive when we fished them out of the water – they were mad, babbling nonsense. They were gone by the morning." He sighed shaking his head and clucking his tongue. "We gave them a burial at sea – it was the right thing to do."

"You did WHAT!" Tesla asked, temporarily forgetting who he was yelling at.

"I'm a pirate, not a monster – I did the decent thing," Shanks said.

Tesla was in disbelief. "What about my life boat? How did it end up here if you picked them up?"

"I've got enough life boats, and they're prettier. Must have washed up here on its own."

"But he was obviously stalling and avoiding the question! He must be hiding them!"

Shanks stood. "You probably scared the piss out of him! Of course he was going to panic! This isn't a Marine officer or some pirate captain or whatever else kind of hard ass is out there! This is a FARMING COMMUNITY. There are more apple tries on this island than PEOPLE. A rough day at the office for him is, I don't know, a couple of farmers bitching over who owns what cow or some shit. I do not expect him to be able to handle an interrogation from an asshole like YOU!"

Mac stayed quiet. The whole exchange was sickening. Tesla definitely wanted his guests – any doubt he might have had was gone after those numbers were mentioned. He was especially horrified that Tesla mentioned they had been burns – this horrible man had branded them like cattle. He'd even mentioned some kind of surgery. This, Mac noted, was all the scientist had spoken of – what else had he done to them?

Thank God for Shanks. Somehow, he knew something was up and was making up this fairy tale about finding them half dead to throw Tesla off the trail. With Shanks' position and infamy, Tesla wouldn't dare question him, and even if he did, he wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near Apple Island now that he knew where their little community stood in the scheme of the world.

Tesla fumed for a moment, but took a deep breath and stood. His ears were turning red and Mac wondered if he was going to rupture a vein somewhere. He was angry, but he was also scared of Shanks – especially after than last outburst that Mac wasn't entirely convinced DIDN'T have any King's Ambition thrown in for flavor.

Especially when he noticed there was a wet spot on the crotch of the science pirate's pants.

"Curie. We're leaving."

Curie, who'd been scared speechless during the entire exchange, nodded quickly and was out the door before her captain. Tesla gave one last look at the captain of the Red Hair Pirates before swallowing and making a hasty exit out the mayor's front door, mumbling a hasty "good day" before closing the door behind him.

Mac watched them leave, waiting several moments before letting out the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding. "Thank you, Shanks," he said. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that so soon after getting here." Mac rubbed his temples. "Most pirates catch a glimpse of your flag flying and turn tail and run."

Shanks shook his head. "It isn't your fault, Mac, and as long as no one got hurt – well, at least not MORE hurt – so let's not sweat it too much anymore. It's a little foggy out – he probably didn't see the flag. I'm going to have more made so Apple and the other islands have something to fly closer to the shoreline so we don't get a repeat of this incident elsewhere. I've got Ms. Elstar and Mr. Braeburn keeping an eye on their ship – once they leave they're going to report here to let me know. If so much as a rotten apple was pillaged I will not let that go unpunished." The pirate captain stood and walked towards the window, glancing outside to ensure the scientists were gone. He studied the outside for a few moments, nodded, and turned to the mayor. "So, now that Tesla and his minion think they're dead I'd like to see them. Where are they?"

"How did you know, anyways?" asked Mac. "I mean, about our guests?"

"Like I said, I spoke with Ria and Braeburn already – they were armed and on their way here and filled me in on what's going on. As soon as I heard it was Tesla, I had a suspicion and asked them to describe your guests for me," he said. He crossed his arm over his chest, hung his head, and sighed. "You know Tesla only hits pirates, right?"

"Yeah – are they yours?"

"No, Tesla's terrified of me and my peers," said Shanks. He sighed, taking a seat for a moment. "But I know who they are and I know their captain – he's a good guy and has been going crazy trying to find them. I honestly didn't think I'd encounter them, much less after I heard Tesla was the one that got to them. Poor things. Tesla's an asshole." He passed. "No. More like the asshole of another asshole."

The mayor looked forlornly at the stairs. "They don't seem like pirates. They've been very gracious since they got here – the young man has even cooked for me. If you hadn't told me I would have had no way of knowing." Shanks only smiled knowingly, and Mac laughed. "Although I suppose if their captain is a friend of yours . . ."

"Yeah, I don't think he's the type to make friends with monsters. If they're in his crew, I believe they're good people and I trust them completely while they're on this island. Besides, you're the guy who's feeding and housing them after they were tortured for a year – gratitude is the least they can give you," said Shanks. Mac nodded, urging the pirate captain on. He invited the emperor to sit back down, and the pirate obliged as he filled him in on the details. "It was a little while back I found out – maybe about two or three months ago, something like that. I ran into an old friend of mine from way back, so I decided to pay him a visit, and he told me what was going on . . ."

* * *

><p><em>Maybe about two or three months ago, something like that . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em> "Aw come on, Buggy, it's been so long since we've seen each other - don't spoil the moment!"<em>

_ Buggy glared daggers at Red Haired Shanks, who was grinning like a fool from his perch on the railing of his ship. The Red Hair Pirates had come across the Big Top, and when Shanks recognized its captain, well, of course decided that he simply HAD to pay his former crewmate a visit for old time's sake – they could split some booze and reminisce about the days of Roger._

_ But mostly split some booze._

_ And by split that meant mostly Buggy's booze._

_ Or all of Buggy's booze. _

_ The clown disagreed. "What do you care! I STILL haven't forgiven you for-"_

_ Shanks laughed and waved his hand at Buggy. "Yeah, yeah, I know, you lost your precious treasure map and you ate a Devil Fruit you didn't want all because of me. Got it." Shanks winked and patted Buggy on the shoulder, both gestures dripping with the sweet nectar of All Natural Grade A Sarcasm._

_ Buggy grumbled at Shanks - he knew better than to try and chase the emperor away by force. No matter how much he disliked Shanks or wanted to extract revenge on Shanks or wanted to make his grandmother regret she'd been born for birthing the woman who birthed Shanks . . . Shanks could destroy him with a look and Buggy was smart enough to know that was not something to mess with. "Whatever. I ran into your little rubber freak friend."_

_ "Yeah, I heard that he busted you out of Impel Down - I didn't know you two were friends!" said Shanks. He grinned, images of Luffy and Buggy with their arms around each other's shoulder and laughing over nothing dancing through his head. "See? If you and Luffy can be buds then why can't the two of us-"_

_ "HE'S NOT MY FRIEND! He didn't come in there to rescue me - he went in there to rescue Portgas D. Ace and try to find his missing crewmates! We formed an alliance to find the missing brats and that's all! My escape was a happy accident!" Buggy was fuming, but something cooled his temper, and Shanks realized that Buggy knew something heavy. "Maybe you should know what happened. . ."_

_ Shanks cocked his head to the side. "About?"_

_ "Luffy's missing crewmates. You heard about that, right?"_

_ The emperor nodded. Of course he had heard. Luffy's ship had suddenly started going back and forth throughout the Grand Line, and rumor had it he was looking for a couple of crewmates who had vanished on him. "Yeah. The paper announced a while back that the World Government and the Marines think they'd dead."_

_ "We know what happened to them. Enough, I guess."_

_ The emperor sat up straight. "What happened?" _

_ Buggy said only two words – there was no need for elaboration. "Tesla Pirates."_

_ Shanks winced. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemies, either. "It's almost cold comfort to know that his victims rarely live longer than a few days. At least they're at peace now-" Shanks was going to continue, but the look on Buggy's face was somber. "Buggy, exactly how did they die?" he asked quietly._

_ The clown swallowed, looking away. "They didn't. They're still alive."_

_ Shanks' eyes widened. "You're shitting me."_

_ "Unfortunately, no I'm no shitting you. The girl was alive as of three weeks ago, and it sounded like the other one was alive, too," said Buggy. "That's around nine months of living through whatever it is Tesla's doing to them. Nine months." The clown looked at the horizon. "I spent about a week in Impel Down, right? Maybe two. And it was awful. But they're going through something that might be even WORSE and they're been enduring it for a lot longer. I don't know how the hell they're doing it."_

_ "Buggy . . ." Shanks frowned._

_ "I know you probably want to drink . . . and seeing as our crews are getting along that should be fine . . . but I'd like you to please leave once your men have had their fills. I'm going to be in my quarters for a bit – I need to be alone," he said absently, starting to walk away from Shanks. "I'll make sure I see you off. All right?"_

_ Shanks dumbly nodded, suddenly finding his own urge to drink had vanished, too._

* * *

><p>"They belong to <em>that<em> Luffy?" Mac asked. He had heard about Shanks' favorite rubbery pirate, Monkey D. Luffy, captain of the Straw Hat Pirates who had decided he was going to be the next Pirate King when he was only seven years old. Shanks had told him the story early on in his relationship with the island, and once the Straw Hat Pirates formed Shanks had showed off his wanted poster like a proud parent.

"_Mac! Look – he's already conquered the East Blue and got himself a bounty increase for, um, I don't know what this one's for, but he's only been on the Grand Line for a few weeks! Next thing you know he's going to be burning down Marine Bases and beating up Admirals! But it still feels like it was only yesterday he was drinking juice and arguing with us about how tough he was . . ._"

". . ._ Shanks, are you . . . are you crying?"_

_ "*sniffle* They grow up so fast, Mac, they grow up . . . *sniffle* so fast . . ."_

Shanks nodded, a fond smile sneaking onto his lips. "Yes. _That_ Luffy."

Mac looked at the ceiling, amazed that the timid, shy creatures in his guest room were really part of the Straw Hat Pirates. Maybe they were just sailors and hadn't gotten names for themselves? That made sense. "So are they just seamen or do they hold rank?" Mac asked in wonder. "I mean, they aren't dangerous, are they?"

"Eh, not to you guys – like I said, Luffy wouldn't recruit those kind of men. Or women. But if you're asking whether or not they hold rank or have bounties, oh-ho yes they do on both accounts. Luffy doesn't have a very big crew so there really aren't any 'sailors' – everyone's got a big job and everyone helps with sailing duties. The little lady is Luffy's navigator and has an asking price of 16 million," said Shanks.

"That's fairly low for the Grand Line," said Mac.

"Yeah, but the young man's a bit more up to par – he's the cook, but according to my friend he's one of Luffy's strongest men and, as such, he has a much more impressive price tag," said Shanks. He laughed. "Luffy's 30 million first bounty was pretty good, but this guy's first bounty was a cool 77 million – I'm sure Luffy's very proud of that."

Mac paled. "Seven . . . seventy . . .seventy . . . mah. . . mah . . ."

* * *

><p>Shanks watched as Mac swooned and collapsed on the floor. The pirate cocked his head to the side in mild bewilderment.<em> Seriously, Mac, you know the kind of bounties running amuck amongst my boys – hell, you know what MY bounty is – and you're going to faint over a measly 77 million? Come on now, I thought I knew you better than that.<em>

Shanks looked down at the mayor, sighed, and dragged him onto the couch. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that, well, Mac did look kind of tired, and had been probably running himself ragged trying to take care of those two AND run the island. On top of all that Tesla – not a tough pirate, but a creepy and intimidating one – shows up asking questions about people he's trying to make better . . .

"You've probably had a rough couple of days, haven't you, Mac?" He covered the mayor with a throw blanket, made sure there was a cushion under his head, patted his shoulder (Mac groaned a little in response), and went upstairs to see Luffy's crew. _Buggy said that they'd been held captive for nearly nine months as of about three months or so ago, and Tesla himself said they've been gone just a few days. I might be walking into a mess._

Didn't matter. Luffy was his dear friend, and he knew that the rubber man was the kind of captain who cared deeply about his crew – after all, he'd been tearing the Grand Line upside down trying to find them. And since Luffy wasn't there to look after them while they got better, the least he should do as a man of honor was poke his head in on them to see how they were doing.

Shanks felt a pit in his stomach. What if the situation was reversed? What if something had happened to one or more of his men as bad as a stay with the Science Pirates? And what if Luffy had been the one to stumble across them in such rough shape? The pirate closed his eyes. Luffy would have made sure they were well taken care of, and would have probably camped out in the room they were recovering in to make sure they were okay.

He could almost see Luffy sitting crossed legged on a chair next to a bed with one of his men – maybe Benn or Yasopp or Lucky – nestled within. He didn't think Luffy would know much about how to care for a person that sick (he might TRY but it wouldn't do any good, Shanks guessed), but he would stay there so they wouldn't have to be alone, maybe hold their hand or try to say something encouraging, like how it was going to be okay and that they were going to make it. He'd tell them that he would find a way to get their captain to them and then it would be all right.

Shanks found the room easily. There was a pair of twin sized beds, both empty, but he could sense a pair of shivering pirates under the far bed. He closed his eyes. _They must have heard everything. _Shanks sat cross legged on the bed not being used as a hiding place and tried to coax them out. "I won't hurt you – I'm a friend of Luffy's. Come on, Sanji, Nami, its safe now."

* * *

><p><em>. . . he just said my name.<em>

* * *

><p><em> . . . I thought I'd never hear it again.<em>

* * *

><p>Two cautious heads peeked out from under the other bed. Neither of them looked particularly like their wanted poster, but Shanks recognized Sanji's left eyebrow (which looked oddly thin . . . and was strangely enough not symmetrical to his other eyebrow) and Nami's eyes. They were quiet, staring at him nervously. They seemed a little happy to see him, and using their names had helped, but they had clearly been distraught over Tesla's arrival at Mac's.<p>

Shanks smiled and pulled out their wanted posters. He'd started carrying them around, just in case, after Buggy told them what happened to them. "These are you guys, right?" he said. They took each other's posters and sat on the other bed, staring at them like they were looking at a lost friend. Shanks cocked his head to the side. "Is something wrong?"

Nami traced the name on the poster. "Sanji-kun."

Sanji held the other poster to his chest. "Nami-san."

The young woman recognized him first. "You're Shanks – you're the one who gave Luffy his hat."

Shanks smiled. "Ah, so he talks about me?"

Nami sat up and Sanji followed suit. "He never lets anything happen to that hat. If he thinks it might get hurt he always gave it to one of us for safe keeping." She paused, the thought of captain putting mist in her eyes. Shanks frowned – she probably missed Luffy and was probably shaken up and broken from whatever Tesla had done to her, not to mention terrified that she'd heard her tormentor downstairs.

Sanji put a nervous hand on her shoulder. Nami quieted, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck as the cook absently started to talk. "Luffy would lay down his life to protect any of us. Please, don't be mad at him. We just got taken by someone he couldn't find – if he could have found us, Tesla and Curie would have been dead a long time ago."

Shanks shook his head. "It's okay – Tesla's a slippery snake. Luffy's determined and loyal to a fault but that so called 'scientist' can be tough to track," he said. He leaned back and propped one ankle over his other knee. "But it's not for his lack of trying. He's been tearing up and down the Grand Line trying to find you two. He isn't exactly sitting around twiddling his thumbs."

They exchanged a look. Memories of nightmares and hallucinations of the other Straw Hats being glad they were gone had vanished in an instant, almost as if they hadn't happened at all. "They didn't give up," said Sanji. He turned to Shanks. "Is this in the papers, or did you find out some other way? Have you talked with Luffy?"

"Not with Luffy – with Buggy the Clown."

"Buggy?" asked Nami. "What he's – there's no way Buggy is helping Luffy. He HATES Luffy."

"True," said Shanks, his lips curling into a grin before he laughed. "But, well, Luffy has something Buggy wants and the clown's smart enough to know he's not going to get it from Luffy by force. Nami, do you remember the arm band you gave Luffy?" The navigator paused to think about it, then nodded. "Turns out it's got something to do with a treasure Buggy's been trying to hunt down. Luffy doesn't want to give it up because you gave it to him, so I guess someone got the idea to give Buggy the armband. . . IF he can bring the two of you to Luffy alive and well."

"That thing was a treasure map?" asked Sanji.

_The old me would have never let Luffy have it if I knew THAT – but I don't care about that anymore, and I guess I should be glad I didn't keep it after all,_ Nami thought to herself. She didn't want to think of what she would have done with it, but she was glad it was such a precious thing to Luffy. "That explains why Buggy's helping Luffy. Because there's no way he'd help out of the kindness of his heart of something."

"He did mention a couple of things that had come up during talks between the crews," said Shanks. "But before we get into that are you guys hungry? I can go make us some sandwiches – Mac's usually got a well stocked fridge and I'll pay him back for it later. I'm sure he's been feeding you but I don't think extra food is going to do any harm, right?"

"You want to make us sandwiches?" asked Sanji.

"I'm not a very good cook, Mac's passed out downstairs – don't worry, he'll be fine, I think he just had a little too much excitement for one night – and sandwiches are SIMPLE," Shanks said with a laugh. "The two of you are a bit too skinny, so let's get some meat back on your bones and we'll come up with a plan of attack once I get back, all right?" Sanji and Nami dumbly nodded. Shanks smiled, winked, and headed out of the room.

"We're not high right now, right?" Sanji said dryly.

"Why would you ask that?" Nami asked.

"Because one of the Four Emperors is making us sandwiches."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

I enjoyed your reviews last time! Looks like everyone enjoyed Shanks' appearance, and I hope you enjoyed the explanation for why he was there in the first place.

Dixxy


	8. Bon Fire

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Seven: Bon Fire

Shanks returned sometime later with a plate of poorly made sandwiches and a pitcher of ice water balanced on a single tray. "Thank you," said Nami. She and Sanji sat on the edge of the bed, choosing which of the sandwiches they wanted. As she settled on two pieces of white bread holding a badly mangled piece of turkey, she looked at the emperor in worry. "Is Mac okay?"

"He'll be okay – he just needs his beauty sleep is all."

Nami looked at the emperor in curiosity. "I have to ask – why, exactly, is Mac flying your flag?"

"Yeah – wouldn't that get them in trouble with the Marines?" asked Sanji.

Shanks crossed his legs. "It's not at all uncommon among the other pirates in my league to have entire islands or sometimes small archipelagos considered their 'territory'. Apple Island is part of my territory, which means most pirates are too scared of retribution to even come within spitting distance of this place, the World Government mostly ignores islands like this because the response it would get from someone like me in retaliation would be a huge mess . . . and they don't trade with anyone other than other islands under my protection."

"And what do you get out of it?" Nami asked. Sanji swallowed, seeing where she was coming from. He frowned. Of course Nami wasn't going to like the idea of a pirate lording over an island of innocent people and controlling their trade. Even if Shanks had saved them, this revelation wasn't going to sit well with her. At all.

_I guess even the scars Tesla left aren't enough to make us forget our other traumas. . ._

Shanks smiled. "Free booze! It's great! Sometimes we have parties with the villagers – don't get me wrong, my boys and I can have a great time on our own, but it's way more fun with more people! And sometimes it's just nice to have a quiet, normal place to go. It's cold here now, but during the warmer months it's nice to wander into the orchards, find a nice spot with a bottle of wine, and drink and reminisce."

Nami paled. "Alcohol? Parties? And wandering around drunk in an apple orchard?"

"What else would I want? I mean yeah they give us a good discount on meat and apples and stuff, too, but they're good people. I like them. Especially Mac – he doesn't have the constitution for it and I don't think he'd take to the lifestyle, but he's got some tough as nails determination that I look for in my men. I respect that."

"And not letting them trade with other islands?"

Shanks shook his head. "It's more the other way around – the other islands don't like trading with them. I mean, okay, a few islands under the flag of the other emperors once in a while, yeah, and SOMETIMES a particularly ballsy merchant trader will stop in port for like, a few hours, but personally I don't care who they trade with – it's their stuff, I just want a few barrels of booze a month for protection."

"Wait, just a few barrels?" asked Sanji. "I've heard of emperors charging a lot more than that."

"Well, if they want to be assholes about it, then yeah – Big Mom charges highway robbery for her protection. But my goal isn't to run the island into the ground, and the price of protection was something Mac and I negotiated on – definitely enough to be worth my time but not so much it would break the island's economy, and even then if they're a little short I don't give a shit, they can get me a little extra next time or something else or whatever," said Shanks. He shrugged. "I'm guessing the little lady has had some bad experiences with pirate run islands?"

"Yeah, I have," she said. "When I was little, the Fishman Pirates took over my island and demanded 100,000 berries per adults and 50,000 per child on the island a month, and he killed anyone who couldn't pay." She closed her eyes. "My mother couldn't pay for our family, so Arlong killed her. And then he made a bum deal with me that if I could raise 100 million berries he would let me buy back my village and leave us alone."

Shank reached over and took Nami's hands. "I promise you that what we have here is nothing like what happened to your village. You can ask Mac to back me up on this but here is my arrangement with the islanders. Over the course of the year, without any influence from me, they produce about one thousand barrels of hard cider. That's just the alcoholic stuff – not counting the soft stuff so the kids have something to drink, not counting the apples they use for eating and pies and feeding their livestock, and not counting everything else anyone here does for their livelihood, like Miss Ria's sewing shop or Braeburn's smithy. In exchange for protecting their island, I get 100 barrels of that cider a year – anything more and we gotta pay for it. That's it." Shanks was nodding along as he spoke, gently speaking with Nami. "No price per head on the island. No killing people if they can only get me 99 barrels – hell, if they have a bad harvest I don't care if all they can get me is one barrel. I see these people as friends, and I take care of my friends."

The navigator seemed to relax, satisfied that this wasn't like what happened to her island. Shanks seemed like he honestly was more interested in partying with these people, not screwing them over. "You said you wanted to talk with us more . . . I guess you want to know what happened on Tesla's ship," she said softly. Sanji squeezed her hand. "

Shanks stared at the last sandwich sadly. "Well, based on some information Buggy told me, your crew was worried you'd been force fed Devil Fruits," he said. As soon as he'd mentioned the Devil Fruits, he watched the other pirates hesitate to respond, but by the way they looked at each other and the way their hands were shaking, he knew he had his answer. His voice lowered. "So he did."

Nami put her hand over her stomach. "He had us held down and forced our jaws open while his cronies shoved them into our mouths and made us bite down." She clenched her eyes shut. "There were a lot of seastone restraints in the beginning to keep us from using them to fight back. But after a while we . . . kind of lost the will to fight back. We were tired of being hurt for fighting back . . . he even tried to take our names away from us." Now she was rubbing the back of her neck, tearing a little. "And for a while . . . he did. Just a few minutes ago, when you told us to come out . . . that was the first time we've heard our own names in months . . . even from each other."

_Ria had mentioned they were mum about their names . . . son of a bitch, Tesla, really?_

"I think this is good enough for now," Shanks said, choosing his words carefully. Normally he wouldn't treat anyone on Luffy's crew so delicately, but these two were pretty badly damaged goods. _There's no telling if they'll ever be well enough to join their captain again. Even if most of the others died . . . these two may be suffering from the worst fate. _ "I'm going to talk with some of my men to lay out some ideas for what we're going to do next. You two will definitely have a say in what happens to you but for now you probably need some rest."

The pair looked at him with unsure eyes. Shanks closed his eyes and shook his head. "Luffy is a good man. He had his flaws and I'm sure you know that, but he defends what he cherishes to the death." Shanks turned his head to where his arm used to be. "Sometimes people ask me why I'm not bothered I only have one arm. Sure it's a little harder to do some things but I think I'm doing pretty well for anyone, never mind a one armed man."

Nami stared at him. "I don't get it."

Shanks smiled. "So he never told you," he said quietly. He cleared his throat and began to tell them a story. "When Luffy was just a kid, my crew was staying in his home town. He liked us, we were his friends, and one day he got really mad at us for not standing up to a bunch of thugs who came into our hangout. I think we got into a fight with him or something, but you know what he did? Even though we were mad at each other, when those thugs came back . . . Luffy defended us. A seven year old kid stood up to a band of mountain bandits who were all twice his size or bigger." He closed his eyes. "We stepped in to try and keep something from happening to him, but he got dragged away anyways. And in the process of getting him back . . ."

Sanji felt his hands start to shake. "You lost your arm . . . to save Luffy."

"Yeah. That's the short version of it," said Shank.

"Sanji-kun?" Nami asked,

Memories of seeing Zeff without his leg for the first time flooded Sanji's head. He was crying, but he couldn't talk. Nami put a hand on his shoulder and was looking at him in confusion, but all the young man could see was images of his foster father, and it was making his stomach churn. He put his face in his hands.

"No, no, seriously, it's okay! I get along just fine without it! I'm one of the Four Emperors!"

"It's not that," Sanji said. He closed his eyes. "It just hit home. Someone I care about lost a leg."

Shanks stood, patting Sanji on the head. "Are they doing okay?"

"He owns the best restaurant in the entire East Blue," he said.

". . . you don't mean Red Foot Zeff."

Sanji nodded. "He adopted me when I was ten. And it was my fault he lost his leg. We didn't always get along . . . we fought most of the time, especially once I got older . . . but we cared about each other. He was basically my dad, and I spent too much time arguing with him and not even time respecting him and trying to make our dysfunctional little family work . . ."

Shanks hugged Sanji, surprising the young man and startling him. It snapped him back into reality, making him realize how wet and salty his cheeks were. "I'm sure he knows, and I'm sure he misses you. But you have to trust me on this one – right now, the best thing for the two of you to do is stay here on the island and let the world think you're dead until you've had a chance to recover – if you even decide to go back to Luffy. You've got a long road to recovery ahead of you, and most of its going to be up here," he said, pointing at his head, and then to his chest, "and in here. You're going to gain back all the weight you lost pretty easily, and your hair will grow back, and the withdrawal will get better and better, and all that will probably happen soon enough. But emotionally? That's going to take time, patience, and support."

Sanji and Nami let that sink in. Shanks was right – right now, they had to stay on the island. They were in no shape to go looking for Luffy anytime soon, and even if he did show up they wouldn't be able to go with him. The only way they were safe from Tesla is if he thought they were dead or someone else killed him first. Shanks was going to find Luffy, sure, but they didn't know how long that was going to take.

The sound of the door opening and closing downstairs could be heard, followed by Ria shrieking. Shanks sighed. "One moment – it looks like my reconnaissance team is back and I need to go sort things out with them." He politely excused himself and disappeared out into the hallway, calling after the blacksmith and seamstress to "chill the fuck out".

* * *

><p>Sometime after Shanks left, Mac had woken up, Gala had shown up, and everyone but the mayor and the doctor were chased out of the house (despite Ria's protests). After giving his patients a quick exam to make sure they were okay and giving them warm milk to help them relax, the doctor also prepared to return home.<p>

"You're not mad at us, are you?" asked Sanji, lying in his own bed with his milk in both hands.

Gala shook his head as he pulled his coat on. "Think nothing of it," he said. He smoothed out the garment and began circling his scarf around his neck. "Not all pirates and evil, and even if you had told me I don't think I would has suspected you were the evil type. Even if that wasn't enough, Shanks has given me his word that he has a lot of respect for your captain and trusts the two of you based on that alone."

Nami put down her finished mug on the nightstand. "You guys must really trust Shanks."

The doctor closed his, chuckling lightly. "I'm more loyal to him than my own king," he said. Gala sighed and turned to them. "Get some rest. Shanks will be back in the morning and I'm sure he's going to want to talk with you some more – I think whether they're wanted or not Miss Elstar and Mr. Braeburn will be back as well."

"Shanks said they were watching . . . that man's . . . ship," said Sanji.

"They spotted the ship and realized what he was after. There are two things defending this island when Shanks and his men are away. Usually, all we need is the first line of defense – the flag of the Red Hair Pirates," said Gala. "Just its presence is warning enough to most who try to bother the island – I doubt Shanks needed to do much more than just intimidate your tormentor away."

"And the other?" asked Nami.

"Miss Elstar and Mr. Braeburn are both trained in combat and the only ones on the island – aside from, perhaps, the two of you – who have any specialized training of the sort. Prior to the event that led to Shanks coming to this island, there was nothing like that here. There is a sheriff, but an exciting day for him is taking care of a rowdy drunk, and there was never a Marine base here. Certainly the island was aware of the piracy on the Grand Line, but for whatever reason our island was almost never visited by pirates and when it was no serious incidents happened – they drank, traded, and left. Over the years those who knew how to handle weapons grew out of practice, out of shape, or died."

"What happened that led to Shanks protecting this island?" Sanji asked.

"I wasn't here at the time and I don't know all of the details, but the island was attacked and devastated by pirates – as I explained before, no one knew how to fight and the only one who stood his ground was Mac. I don't suppose the two of you noticed his limp?" he said. This caught the attention of the young pirates. "Mac didn't stand a chance, but he stood his ground anyways. So one of them took out his knee, and they kept him alive to watch the carnage."

"Mac . . ." said Nami.

"That didn't last too long – Shanks and his men had been on the other side of the island, having heard rumors about how good the hard apple cider here was and wanting to, well, get drunk. Naturally there was a lot of noise going on where the other pirates had landed, and when Shanks and his men went to investigate, saw what happened with Mac, and, well, they were impressed by his guts. Mac's never been very physically apt, but doing what he did required a lot of bravery. So Shanks and his men took care of the rest of the pirates, one thing led to another, and the island has been flying under his flag ever since."

"And Ria and Braeburn?" asked Sanji. He sat up, leaning on his knees. "I saw Braeburn's war hammer when I was at the forge last night, but Ria doesn't seem the type – does she fight with fabric or something? Does she have a fabric Devil Fruit or something?" He furrowed his brow in thought. "Or maybe she sews her opponents together?"

Gala raised an eyebrow. "She uses nitoryu – two sword style fighting. And no neither of them has any Devil Fruit abilities," he said dryly. "Of course since then Mac and Shanks organized a small militia to defend the island should someone try to cause an incident – a few of his men train them whenever they stop by the island. They certainly aren't anything much, but Shanks thinks they're good enough to hold off the average pirate crew on the Grand Line, especially with the talents of our seamstress and blacksmith backing them up."

"But that doesn't make any sense," said Nami. "You said no one on the island could fight."

The doctor shook his head. "That's correct – those two weren't here eight years ago. Neither was I, for that matter," said Gala. He shook his head. "It's getting late and I think it's important the two of you get some rest so I'll save the details for another day, but as you can imagine this island doesn't see a lot of visitors or newcomers aside from the occasional newborn baby. Since Shanks took over the island there's only been a handful of people who've moved here, and it's always an unusual circumstance that brings them."

"Like us," said Sanji.

Gala patted both of their shoulders. "Don't worry about that right now – your first priority is getting well. Shanks will be by again tomorrow – I'm sure he wants to talk more with the two of you to figure out what he wants to do next. In the meantime I'm going to head home for the night, one of you is going to hop into the other's bed, and we're all going to get a good night's rest."

Sanji and Nami glanced away from Gala, giving him an awkward good night. The doctor turned off the lights and then they did exactly what he said they were going to do. The cook climbed into the navigator's bed and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on the pillow he'd dragged from "his" bed.

"Why can't we sleep if we aren't together?" asked Nami.

"We did it for almost a year – our bodies are probably used to it or something," said Sanji. "And I don't know about you but Tesla almost finding us . . . I'm still scared. I don't want to try breaking that habit tonight." He squeezed her tighter, and Nami could feel he was tense. "Besides, everything we had before Tesla took us is gone – you're the only thing I have left from my old life."

Nami nodded. "Right now, you are my most precious treasure."

"Coming from you that means a lot."

"Yeah, well, right now I'm not sure treasure is doing it for me anymore."

"I hear you there. Ria's pretty hot but she isn't doing anything for me."

Nami patted his cheek. "It's okay."

Sanji frowned, looking away from her. "I don't want to talk about that right now, actually."

Something wasn't right with the cook. He looked lost. He was right – Ria was pretty, sure, but he hadn't reacted to her the way he usually did. At first Nami thought that was, well, maybe a good thing, but now she was worried. Sure, she didn't feel the need to hoard treasure anymore, but she didn't want to reject the idea of financial security completely. _Sanji-kun, are you . . .? _

In that moment it didn't matter. For the moment they were safe and that monster couldn't touch them. He didn't even know they were alive, because now the whole world was going to think they were dead. This was their chance to get better – they'd figure out everything that needed to get fixed as they went along. "All right," she said.

The laid there in silence, holding each other until they fell asleep.

* * *

><p>The following morning, Shanks brought over a stack of wanted posters reflecting the Straw Hat's current associates and members. Sanji and Nami saw that Ace had apparently allied himself with Luffy at some point, and for some reason Mr. 2 Bon Clay was in the stack as well. Nearly everyone had gotten some kind of bounty increase, and Brook had gotten an updated photo.<p>

"Not long before the two of you went missing, Ace ended up in Impel Down," Shanks explained. "Luffy and your crew broke in and busted him out, but I suspect that they were also looking for the two of you in there as well. Everyone except your weird looking antler dog got a bounty increase and they picked up that Mr. 2 character."

"The 'weird looking antler dog' is a reindeer who ate the Human Human Fruit," Nami explained.

"Oh?" said Shanks.

"Yeah. He's actually our ship's doctor," said Sanji.

". . . yeah that sounds like something Luffy would pick up," said Shanks. He crossed his legs. "I thought you guys might want something, even if it's just pictures from their wanted posters. You've got a big pile of nothing right now so . . ." He looked away, nervous. "I'm sorry, was that rude?"

"It's true," said Nami. "Everything we have right now has been charity."

"We'll find a way to make it up," said Sanji.

Shanks thought about this. "Actually, that's not a half bad idea," he said. "Think about it. You guys are going to be here a long time, yes? I'm not saying you need to run out NOW, but you're probably better off trying to integrate with the other people on the island – you know, blend in a little. And that will probably warrant jobs and places to live – or a place to live, if you wanted to share a space."

"Yeah, we can probably do that," said Nami. She tried to hold back a grimace. _Sanji-kun was a chef before he became a pirate, but what could I do? They probably already have maps of the island, they probably don't need a navigator . . . what the hell am I going to do? I don't have any skills that would get me a job here!_ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _Worry about it later – you and Sanji-kun still have a lot of healing to do._

"Sounds reasonable," said Sanji. He shuffled through the wanted posters. "I probably want to get back into the swing of things – Luffy isn't a picky eater, but he definitely has his favorites." He chuckled. "Braeburn was telling me there are some small restaurants and cafes on the island – I can probably find work at one of those places, yes?"

"Probably," said Shanks. "And you, Miss Nami?"

"Nami is fine, and I'll figure something out," she said. She was a little nervous though, and not just about finding employment on Apple Island once she was healthy enough to find it. Nami was clutching the edges of Robin's poster, but keeping her eyes on Ace and Mr. 2's posters. She wondered what made Ace decide to leave Whitebeard's services, and more importantly, where the former Baroque Works agent fit into things. _Did Luffy replace us? I guess he would need a navigator and cook to keep things running smoothly in our absence . . ._

Shanks didn't notice Nami's distress. "Hey, so, I want to introduce you guys to three of my best men. Although I definitely think it would be good for you guys to get out and about on the island once you're doing better, I don't think it's a good idea for too many people on my ship to know about you guys to keep the risk of you getting found out as down as possible."

"But your three best men you'd like to have in on this," said Sanji, trying to act like he wasn't paying extra attention to Zoro's wanted poster. "Because you need some help in finding Luffy and the others." Shanks nodded, stood, and politely excused himself to fetch these men he spoke of.

* * *

><p>Shanks returned and introduced Sanji and Nami to his three most trusted men (a tall man with a gun named Benn Beckham, a fat man who was constantly eating named Lucky Roux, and a marksman with dreadlocks named Yasopp), and at that point the pair remembered something INCREDIBLY important about one of them.<p>

Nami gasped. "You're Usopp's dad!"

Shanks was about to go into something about their game plan to find Luffy when the outburst happened. Nami covered her mouth with her hands, worried she'd done something wrong, but it was comforting to see someone who looked a little like Usopp. She could mostly see it in his eyes and his smile, and it was almost enough to bring her to tears.

"You . . . know my boy?" asked Yasopp.

Seeing that Nami wasn't quite composed, Sanji stepped in. "He's one of us," he explained. Yasopp was staring at the two of them dreamily, anxious to hear more about his son. "He's actually been with Luffy longer than I have, and he used to talk about you and how much be wants to be like you all the time."

"He's really smart – he's an inventor and a handyman. He made my weapon – it's a metal pole that produces hot and cold air to create small storm systems," said Nami. "He's kind of a genius when it comes to stuff like that. And an amazing sniper! He even beat Daddy the Father in a sniper's duel with a slingshot!"

Yasopp was beaming. "That's amazing!"

Sanji grinned, shuffling through the wanted posters for Sogeking's poster. "Here's his wanted poster – Sogeking is sort of . . . it's complicated, but anytime Sogeking does something it's really Usopp." He handed the poster to Yasopp, who was looking at it with tears in his eyes. Proud, manly tears.

"He's got his mother's nose," he said, wiping away some of the stray tears.

Benn patted Yasopp's shoulder. "There, there."

Lucky Roux ripped into another leg of something (turkey, maybe?). "So let's send Yasopp."

"Hn?" asked Shanks.

"Well, remember when you left Luffy all those years ago you said you didn't want to meet with him until he became a great pirate?" asked Benn. "I think Sanji and Nami will agree that, for Luffy, this is nothing less than taking Roger's crown and declaring himself the King of the Pirates. So, really, you shouldn't be the one to go looking for him."

"That's a point," said Shanks, looking like he was just realizing this.

"So then we can send Yasopp out on a private errand – it would keep the Marines and Tesla from getting suspicious, too. Sending out Yasopp and a handful of guys for a private search party isn't anything suspect, but you and the flagship trying to find Luffy is going to raise all kinds of red flags we don't want up," said Benn. "Yasopp never made any kind of promise to keep himself from Usopp and it might be good for them to see each other after so many years apart."

"An act of good faith – sending someone on Shanks' crew with a personal tie to one of ours will add legitimacy to Yasopp's claim for the rest of the crew who doesn't know and trust Shanks like Luffy does," said Sanji. "There's no way Shanks would know to send Yasopp if Nami and I hadn't told you guys Usopp was one of ours."

"I would have probably sent Benn instead – being the first mate and all," said Shanks.

"So we send Yasopp as our proof of like for Sanji and Nami," said Benn. "All agreed?"

Yasopp looked at Shanks excitedly. Clearly, he wanted to see his son.

Shanks nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me."

* * *

><p>One day later, Yasopp and a handful of Shanks' men left the island to look for Luffy.<p>

Two days after that, Shanks and the rest of his crew prepared to leave.

Shanks' ship was still visible from the cliff side near Mac's home. Bundled up in coats and blankets and with Cobbler lying at their feet, Sanji and Nami watched privately as the Red Hair Pirates left. Nami rested her head on Sanji's shoulder, closing her eyes as she gripped the blanket over her shoulders.

Cobbler whuffed in the silence. Nami cracked a small grin as she reached down to scratch him behind the ears. Sanji joined her, and the dog licked his hand. They continued to watch as the ship got farther and farther away, until it was nothing more than a little speck of light on the horizon. Nami and Sanji grabbed each other's hands and squeezed.

They barely noticed Mac, Gala, Ria, and Braeburn show up just as the light of Shanks' ship vanished, now too far away to see. Cobbler did take notice, however, and barked a greeting. Sanji and Nami turned to their hosts, to see Ria balancing a tray of hot, spiced apple cider, Gala and Braeburn were carrying chopped wood – firewood – and Mac was carrying some sort of bag. The mayor extended the bag towards them as the doctor and blacksmith started to piece together a fire.

Sanji and Nami opened the bag and paled at its contents. The thin, sickly colored hospital gowns that scientist had dressed them in – it was what they'd been wearing when they'd escaped, and for some reason the islanders hadn't gotten rid of them. The gowns still smelled like Tesla's ship, and the scent brought back some of the horrible memories. Being tied down for hours on end, being thrown in the Tank for poor behavior or receiving electric shocks to get them to stop saying their own names, and spending every night in that cold, lonely little cell with only each other for comfort.

Sanji and Nami understood why they'd been given these things. The bon fire wasn't being lit for warmth, it was being lit for a different purpose. Mac and Ria looked at them with sad eyes as Gala and Braeburn stepped away from the flames. Sanji and Nami looked at each other, slowly nodded, and pulled the shirts from the bag. They gripped each other's hands tightly as they approached the now roaring fire.

They tossed the shirts in.

The shirts ignited quickly, and they had to step back to avoid getting burnt. Watching the fibers blacken and curl and shrink was somewhat satisfying, though. They hugged as the hospital gowns withered away into ashes, flying up into the night sky where they would never have to see them again, where they couldn't remind them of the horrors they'd endured.

Now they could pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

And that ends the first "act" of Mass x Acceleration. The next "act" is going to focus on their adjustment to life on Apple Island, introduce more of the islanders, and spend a little more time with Ria and Braeburn.

An important thing to note here is that MxA does not have a "three act structure" (although you can probably squish the "acts" I'm going to have into one)– hence why the term "act" is in parentheses. I guess you might call them movements, with over-arching themes and plots dictating how things are going to go.

Now as far as "who showed up on the Thousand Sunny", that is a difficult question to answer. ORIGINALLY it was supposed to be Shanks. However, as has been pointed out in reviews, Shanks doesn't want to see Luffy until Luffy is worthy of being a pirate and this would be stretching it for an exception. As such I'm sending Yasopp instead.

Now before we get onto act two, I want some feedback from you guys so I can see what's working, what's not working, and what's keeping you all coming back for more. Obviously I can't make you answer these questions but I'd appreciate it if you did:

Of the original characters (Mac, Gala, Ria, Braeburn, Cobbler, the twins), which is your favorite and why? Is there a character you actively dislike (this is different from a least favorite as you can still like a least favorite)?

What is your favorite part of Mass x Acceleration so far?

What is your LEAST favorite part of Mass x Acceleration so far?

Do you have any predictions for the story based on what you've read? This can include anything you might have picked up from the other stories (_A Force Against Inertia_, "Sought", or "Vanished") as well.

When we return it'll be after a short time skip (a few weeks their time, hopefully not our time _ ).

Dixxy


	9. The Daily Grind

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Eight: The Daily Grind

It had been about a month since Sanji and Nami had washed up on Apple Island.

During those weeks, Mac and his new roommates had developed something of a routine. While the mayor was away during the day tending to the day to day needs of the island, Sanji and Nami minded his house, splitting up various household tasks to keep themselves busy. It wasn't hard – Mac didn't have a very messy house and Gala didn't want them doing too much work just yet anyways, but it was something to do to pass the time while they recovered and waited for their captain.

Naturally, Sanji did most of the cooking, but with the weather still cold and everyone but the blacksmith and seamstress thinking it was too soon to send them into town, he wasn't the one doing any of the food shopping. They wanted to get out into town, but Gala wanted to err on the side of caution with them, something they supposed was understandable.

That didn't mean they couldn't have visitors.

"Where are the twins? Aren't you usually towing them along?" asked Nami. Ria had stopped by the mayor's house after a delivery and been invited to have some tea. Sanji was busy in the kitchen working on lunch while the girls sat in the living room. Although sitting down to tea with another woman reminded Nami of her days with the other Straw Hats, she kept glancing in the kitchen to confirm Sanji was still there, unsure of how to feel knowing that he wasn't spinning around the two of them spouting dorky declarations of love.

She knew that things between her and Sanji were . . . different . . . now. They took each other more seriously and were definitely closer than she'd ever imagined they would get, but he wasn't actively hitting on her anymore and sometimes she wondered if it was because she wasn't pretty anymore. She was still very thin, her breasts several cup sizes smaller and sagging more than she would have liked on her nineteen year old frame. Her hair was still very short and something unhealthy looking, which the only fix for the moment was a wig that didn't quite fit or look right (although Gala was giving them some herbs to try and promote faster, healthier hair growth). She just didn't feel pretty anymore and she really couldn't blame Sanji if he felt the same, really.

Then again, the seamstress was fairly attractive – definitely pretty enough to catch the old love cook's attention – but Sanji only gave her polite, quiet greetings and mostly didn't interact with her. Nami knew it wasn't the presence of her children, which she assumed would scare off most suitors. True, Sanji probably didn't want children yet. However, as far as they knew Sanji was still sterile and it would probably be a while before he could have them again, assuming it wasn't permanent, so there was a good chance that his only chance to be a father was adoption or taking over where someone else had left off.

But ignoring the issue of children, Ria was a very curvy woman and had a smooth, pretty face with sharp green eyes and dark eyelashes. She always dressed smartly (even if it was just a blouse and jeans), applied make-up competently, and walked with a confident sway to her hips. She was definitely an attractive woman, so Sanji's failure to acknowledge that was a little concerning.

For him, anyways.

She remembered Sanji's words from the night Shanks had saved them from Tesla. _Maybe he just needs to sort some things out for himself . . . maybe he doesn't feel very attractive anymore, either._ Nami had to admit – for all of his faults (and there were plenty), Sanji was a pretty good looking guy. He was far and away the best dressed of the Straw Hat men, had a cute smile, and she'd seen him without a shirt on occasion – not a bad site to behold. But he'd lost a lot of weight, too, maybe more than she had, and the paleness could be a little unsettling, she guessed.

"Play date," Ria responded, bring Nami back to the conversation at hand. She shrugged. "It's good for them to interact with other kids, you know? I mean it's nice that they have each other and all but dealing with children raised by other people is probably good for their development, sugah." She sighed. "Besides, it's nice to have the break. I love my babies but I'm raising them alone and I'm outnumbered."

"Whatever happened to your husband?" asked Nami.

Ria looked down, and Nami wondered if she'd gone too far. "I was never married."

Nami put her tea down. "Seriously?"

"I don't want to get into the details but let's call what happened a one night stand," said Ria. She laughed. "It figures, you know? Twins. I think I was about ready to kill Gala when he told me there was another baby coming – when I was in labor, that is, because I didn't know I was having twins until it was time for me to deliver Sundae. I was trying to figure out how I was going to raise one by myself, and then I all of a sudden had two?" She sighed. "Braeburn and I discussed getting hitched to help me out, but I pointed out that it might cause more problems than it solved."

"Because it would be a mixed race marriage?" Nami asked. "I mean, I don't have a problem-"

"Oh, I didn't think you did, and believe me, I don't have any qualms about it, either, sugah, but, well . . . my babies are pale little girls. Braeburn and I wouldn't be fooling ANYBODY. And second . . . I love Braeburn, I really do, but I don't love him the way a wife is supposed to love a husband, and I don't think he loves me that way, either. It would be weird trying to fuck each other."

Nami stared at Ria, who was casually drinking her tea like she hadn't just talked about the implausibility of "fucking" her best friend. Apparently no one ever bothered to teach her about tact. Then again, that probably described the Straw Hats to a certain degree as well. She decided to shrug it off and continue with her tea.

"It's not like I haven't dated since coming here – I've been on a couple of date but between the shop and the girls I just don't have a lot of time for it," she said. "But that's okay. I'm not that old yet – I'm twenty-two for gosh sakes."

Nami's eyes widened. "You're not that much older than us. Sanji-kun's going to be twenty-one in a few days, and I'm nineteen." She looked at her hands – they looked like the hands of someone much older than nineteen. "I feel so much older, though. I must look it, too."

"Don't talk like that," said Ria, rubbing her arm. "Time. It's all you need."

* * *

><p>Sanji was in the middle of cooking dinner – something a little complicated that required his concentration – so Nami was left to wander around Mac's house looking for something to do. She'd read through most of the books that had interested her in the study, and the house was pretty clean (aside from the kitchen, but it was being used so that didn't count).<p>

She heard a frustrated grunt from Mac's first floor office and decided to investigate. She politely knocked on the door. "Mac? Are you okay in there?"

"Budgets," he whined through the door. "I'm missing one hundred thousand berries."

Nami opened the door a crack and poked her head in. Mac looked disheveled and stressed out, papers and folders strewn about his desk. She frowned. "I used to manage the books for Luffy – want to see if I can help?" Mac looked up at her, studying her for several moments with wide, tired eyes. He finally nodded, and Nami stepped into the chaos.

"I'm not very good with budgets," he said. "I do well with decision making, but not this end of things."

"Didn't you used to be a town clerk?" Nami asked, starting to organize the paperwork on his desk by type. "That's what Shanks said – you were the town clerk before they made you the mayor. So didn't this used to be your job?"

"No, I did a lot of filing and documentation, meeting scheduling, errands for the old mayor, I was really more like a secretary," said Mac. He sighed. "Budgets were always something the mayor handled. That's something I've never gotten the hang of, but . . . everyone likes me as mayor and I don't think anyone else wants the job. They think I'm the town hero – you know, when they don't think Shanks is the town hero."

"You were very brave to do what you did," Nami said. She straightened a pile and set it aside.

"Maybe, but . . . I feel like there are some things I can handle well. I'm really good at settling disputes. Not everyone is as happy as they'd like, but they're usually happier than when they came into my office in the first place." He coughed. "But budgets and numbers are beyond me. I don't understand them. At all."

"Hey Mac, I think I found your lost money – you didn't carry a one over here," she said. She put the paperwork down, pointed out the error, and Mac slumped into his chair, relieved. Nami smiled.

"Really? I didn't carry a one? It took me three hours to not figure that out and three minutes for you to hunt it down?"  
>Nami shrugged. "I've got a good head for numbers."<p>

Mac looked at Nami quizzically. "I think I've got an idea."

"Hmm?" asked Nami.

"Well, Shanks was encouraging you two to blend in on the island . . . do you want a job?"

* * *

><p>Nami looked in the mirror as Sanji straightened and adjusted the silky scarf around her neck. "You think this looks good?" she asked.<p>

"You don't look half bad in a skirt suit at all," said Sanji. He spun her around to look her up and down, tugging a little on the bottom of the jacket. Ria had come up with the outfit – matching navy blue blazer and pencil skirt, dark grey tights (because it was too cold for pantyhose), and a pearl pink shirt. Sanji had discovered the red scarf and tied it around her neck, leaving a loose knot off the side. It successfully covered the number on the back of her neck and stay out of the way of the off-color wig she was wearing. "All you need now is a little make up and voila – brand new assistant to the mayor."

"I don't know," she said, shuffling in her stalking feet. "I'm new to the island."

"And?"

"Won't people be upset if they see some strange girl acting as Mac's right hand?"

Sanji laughed. "Nami-san, you're a secretary – people aren't going to be up in arms over the girl who they think is getting him his coffee. You're not making any big decisions – you're just making sure he's doing his math right, scheduling his meetings, and yes, getting him his coffee." He kissed her cheek. "You're going to do just fine."

Maybe that was true, but she was still nervous – she wasn't just the assistant for anyone, this was the _mayor's_ assistant. She's known Mac for what, three weeks? And he was trusting her with helping him _run the island_? Was he mad or something? "I've never held an honest job in my life!" She said. Her eyes widened. "Shit. I've REALLY never held an honest job in my life!"

Sanji stared at her for a few minutes before realizing this was true. "Oh. Shoot." That was true for most of the Straw Hats. Luffy and Usopp had never had a job of any kind. Zoro was a bounty hunter, but even that was a little shady. Chopper had been training under a doctor who TECHNICALLY wasn't allowed to practice on the island she lived on. Robin did whatever work came her way. She herself had been a lifelong thief.

Sanji had been co-owner of a restaurant. Franky had been a legitimate shipwright. Brook once held a job as a royal guard in the South Blue. Those three had basically ALL of the "honest" work experience in the entire Straw Hat crew (unless Mr. 2 had done something, but they were still getting used to the idea that, during their absence, Luffy had recruited the ballerina).

"You know what? It doesn't matter. You're going to do great." Sanji gave her a hug.

"What about you?" asked Nami.

"The Cider Mug, a popular restaurant slash bar slash café, is looking for a new cook. Mac asked me if I wanted to try out for it, I said yes, so the owner is coming by this afternoon to sample some of my dishes," said Sanji. "I've already got three different soups on the stove downstairs I need to go check on soon, then I've got a salad to make, chicken to bake, and cheese to grate."

"You made that almost rhyme."

"Well, that's secondary to the food tasting good," he said.

"You're a phenomenal cook – he'd be crazy not to hire you," said Nami.

Sanji beamed a little. "I was a little worried I was out of practice, but Mac seems pretty happy with what I've been feeding him, and Braeburn compared the meal I made for him to sex – specifically he said it was better than sex." He grinned stupidly. "That was a good compliment."

Nami shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"Eh?" Sanji asked.

Nami raised an eyebrow. "I thought you knew I was still a virgin."

Sanji's eyes widened. "I, um, no, I had no idea. Really?"

"Yes, really," said Nami. "We never talked about that?"

"We might have," said Sanji, looking away. "But we talked about a lot, Nami-san."

Nami sighed. This was true. They'd shared a lot during their captivity, since there was nothing else to do in the cell at night but talk and staying up late shooting the breeze made it possible for them to sleep through a lot of the experimentation. And sometimes the topics did get personal – Nami was positive she'd talked about Arlong with him, and he'd told her about the circumstances that brought him to Zeff. Perhaps it wouldn't have been an early topic of conversation, but it was entirely plausible their sex lives had come up.

"So I take it you're not one?" asked Nami.

"Nope – I was seventeen when it happened," said Sanji. He sighed. "It was a one-time fling."

That surprised Nami. Sure Sanji was a little . . . not picky when it came to flirting, but based on his meltdown when he found out he was sterile, the idea that he had lost his virginity to a one night stand surprised her. Relationships obviously held some kind of value to him – why didn't he wait for a girlfriend for something so special?

Sanji sensed what she was thinking. "I thought it was something more than it was," he said soberly. "She'd been making eyes at me for a while, so I thought she liked me and I kind liked her because she was definitely cute, but . . . she did not want anything more than a fling. And a free meal. She got both. And then she came in a few days later . . . she made a comment about my inability to perform to her liking and then left. Never saw her again."

"Oh my God, Sanji-kun," Nami said, but he shook his head.

"Did it stop me from flirting and hitting on pretty girls while we were with Luffy?"

Nami tipped her head in defeat. "Point taken."

"On the bright side I got my awkward, terrible virgin sex out of the way on someone who doesn't matter to me in the long run," Sanji said, trying to make a joke out of it. "And I was AWFUL first time out of the gate – there was a reason she called me 'Speedy'."

"That was mean of her."

"It was true at the time," said Sanji. "But that's, ah, true for some guys. It takes practice."

"So you've had additional practice," Nami said slowly.

Sanji shrugged. "She was the first one, not the only one."

"For a while the others thought you were a desperate virgin. Did that bother you at all?"

"Well, they were half right – I _was_ desperate." He forced himself to grin.

"Had a little sex drought?"

"It's been a while, not even counting last year," he said slowly. Sanji shook his head. "Not important. I'll be okay. But right now you look lovely and presentable and you're going to be a fantastic assistant today, got it?" Sanji smiled and nodded at her, encouraging her to smile and nod back. "Good! You're going to do great!" He gave her a kiss on the cheek (and Nami gave him a gentle tap to the cheek), adjusted her wig a little, and sent her on her merry way.

* * *

><p>Apple Island's town was little bit busier than Nami expected. She had been expecting a small farming community, but was astounded to see it was more developed and populated than what she was used to seeing. There were little shops and businesses and cobblestone roads cleared of snow. Some children were having a snowball fight by some kind of candy store, and there were couples and friends walking in both directions while having quiet conversations.<p>

In the center of town was a slightly larger building – the town hall. Mac opened the double doors, which led to a small reception area – there was a desk, several quills, a small Den Den Mushi, and a sign in book. There were two simple staircases leading up a landing with a pair of double doors at the top, directly above a pair of double doors near the reception desk. The only other noteworthy features were single doors under each stair case – one had Mac's name on the door (Mayor McIntosh Connor Smith), the other door blank.

"This is where you'll be spending most of your time," said Mac. "My office is to the left, there's a general supply and break area to the right, and behind you is the town hall. Mostly it's used for town meetings, which we typically have about once a month. The next one isn't for a while, so I'll tell you what I want to do then when the time comes."

"Okay. So am I a receptionist?" asked Nami.

"Largely. I'll probably have you do some other things as well – keep on top of my schedule because I'm horrible at that, too, file paperwork, whatever it looks like you can do well. I've wanted a good assistant for a while but they never seem to work out," said Mac.

"Any reason why?" asked Nami.

"Not doing their work? I get that there will be times you might not be the busiest and you're just waiting for someone to come in, and that's fine, but the last one just let a stack of harvest reports pile up and up and up . . . it was a nightmare to sort out." The mayor straightened his glasses. "When I was the town clerk and I had nothing to do, I had a book in my bottom desk drawer. But if there was a stack of filing on my desk, I filed."

"Makes sense . . . sounds easy enough . . ." said Nami. "Why me?"

"You seem proactive and you seem like you've got a good head on your shoulders. If you do well, I've give you more responsibility and more compensation," Mac said with a smile. Nami tried to smile back – she was a little nervous, this being her first job, but she was determined to get it right.

* * *

><p>Sanji was almost done with dinner by the time Mac and Nami returned. "Welcome home!" he yelled over his shoulder. "How'd everything go?"<p>

"Very well!" said Mac. He put his briefcase down in the living room and followed his assistant into the kitchen. "It was a slow day – we couldn't have asked for better first day conditions. One of the farmers came in to file a crop value change and Nami handled it beautifully." He patted her shoulder. "I think it's going to work out fine."

Nami tried to read Sanji's posture. "And how did things go for your interview?"

Sanji laughed. "He thinks most of my cooking is too fancy for his regulars," he said.

"You didn't get the job?" asked Nami.

"No, I did. Most of what I made would need to be priced way too high for what he usually puts on his menu, except for the soup. So my primary job will be rotating different soups, stews, chowders, and chilis throughout the weeks and the months, prep work, individual meals to order . . . basically what I was expecting to do." He grinned. "So excited about the soup thing though."

"Good for you," said Nami, giving him a hug from behind. "When do you start?"

"Tomorrow!"

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Oh man, I was dreading the writing of this part of the story, but it's going so fast! I dunno, maybe it's more enjoyable on your end? I sure don't want to write about Nami doing clerical work. Maybe it's more interesting to read about her doing clerical work. Nami's job is important, it's just not terribly interesting yet.

You can probably thank _The Avengers_ fandom because guess what a lot of fanfiction in that fandom is? DOMESTIC AVENGERS! Oh yeah sure you can find some stuff about Dr. Doom blowing up Chicago or whatever but what are most of the fanfics? Let's all live together in Stark Tower, drink coffee, and have wild sex according to the preference of the author .

Sanji's job might be more interesting (unless you guys like clerical work – if there is a demand for Nami filing paperwork I'm curious to know, but I'm still not writing it) – the Cider Mug is an important location so I'm looking forward to exploring the characters and setting there.

-Dixxy


	10. The Cider Mug

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Nine: The Cider Mug

Despite having gotten a job there and having met with the owner, Sanji hadn't actually been to the café he was now supposed to be working at. Come to think of it, he hadn't even gone into town – his only trip out of Mac's house had been the one his hallucination brought him on and he didn't remember most of that (or most of the trip back, thanks to his lack of sleep at the time).

The Cider Mug, he'd been told, was a popular local hangout that served as a café during the day and a bar with music and dancing at night. He was pretty sure it was the same place that Braeburn and his band played at when they weren't taking a break, so he thought that maybe the blacksmith would be a good person to show him the way.

"You'll like the Cider Mug – it's lively," said Braeburn. The two were making the trek from Mac's house to the town, Sanji keeping his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. "One of the guys in my band works there as a cook, too – I'll make sure he keeps an eye on you so your first day goes smoothly."

Sanji frowned. "I'm not a little kid – I'm almost twenty-one, Braeburn."

"Hey, I worry about you, especially with what happened a few weeks ago."

"I know my way around a kitchen – I'll be all right," he insisted.

Braeburn shrugged. "Yeah, well, still. Shanks is concerned, too – he wants to know you and Nami are being well taken care of while you're here," he said. "I don't anticipate a problem with Haralson or the other cooks, but if a customer gives you a hard time don't be afraid to speak up, all right?"

Sanji shrugged. "All right. But I am a pirate, you know."

"A pirate who still needs to recover a bit – Gala just barely okayed you and Nami getting jobs at all," said Braeburn. He stopped and turned to face Sanji directly. "And I wouldn't advise spreading around that you're a pirate if I were you – that might bring you unnecessary trouble you aren't ready to handle yet."

"I wasn't planning on starting with that but why? This is emperor territory."

"And you aren't one of Shanks' men," said Braeburn. "Therein lies the proverbial rub."

Sanji had to concede the point – these people specifically liked Shanks and his crew, they'd never encountered Luffy before (although based on what they had been told, the people here heard PLENTY about his rubbery captain from Shanks). And if it did cause trouble, Braeburn was right – the past month had been good for them, but there was still a long way to go.

The Cider Mug was olive green with a pair of wrought iron tables and eight wrought iron chairs out front. The sign hanging above the door was lacquered wood, depicting a frothy stein and stylized calligraphy advertising the name of the establishment. To the right of a door there was a menu posted and a chalk board behind a glass panel advertising the daily specials. To the left was a poster advertising a band called Core with a large, yellow banner covering the group's picture reading "HIATUS".

"That's your band, I take it?" Sanji asked, pointing at the poster. He could see Braeburn's face just above the banner and half of what appeared to be the guitarist's face, but the visages of the female lead singer and the drummer were completely obscured by the hiatus notification. "How long are you guys on break?"

"We want to hold auditions for a new singer in April and start up again by mid May – we don't want to pick out our new singer while we're still pissed off, so we're taking some time to cool our heads," said Braeburn. He twitched his nose. "We've had it up to here with her. She's not getting back in if she begs on her hands and knees, and Haralson's banned her from performing until after we've got the new band established – he's sick of her shit, too, but she's enough of a draw that he can't boot her completely."

Sanji took one last look at the poster before following Braeburn inside.

The inside of the café was bigger than it looked. None of the tables and chairs matched, but it all sort of worked together in a kind of chaotic harmony. Paintings of landscapes he guessed were from around the island were hung on the walls in brightly colored frames. To one side was an open bar area directly in front of a completely open kitchen. Opposite the bar and kitchen sat a small, empty stage with a phonograph in one corner.

The blacksmith's eye caught something – a tall, skinny man in a green shirt in the kitchen. His grey hair was tied back in a ponytail and he had a series of piercings along his left ear. "Hey, Jimmy!" The pierced young man looked up, waved cheerily, and rushed over to give Braeburn a hug and a pat on the back.

"Beebs! You never come in to see me anymore!" said Jimmy.

"I've had some other stuff going on – you keeping Darryl out of trouble?"  
>Jimmy snorted. "No."<p>

Braeburn snorted. "Figures. Anyways, this is Sanji – I'm assuming Haralson told you about him?"

Jimmy stared at Sanji for a moment before his eyes lit up and he smacked his forehead. "Oh yeah! Haralson said we'd be getting a new guy today. What's up, man?" He held out his hand for a handshake – Sanji took the hand and was immediately pulled into a hug. "You have no idea how happy me and Paula are that Haralson brought another good pair of hands on board – we've been swamped like crazy."

Sanji was still recovering from being hugged by Jimmy. "Oh, um, thanks."

"So you're new to the island, right? We don't get a lot of those – what's your story?"

Before he could answer, Braeburn shot Jimmy a look. "Not a pretty one, so don't ask," he said. Braeburn crossed his arms and put a hand defensively on Sanji's shoulder. "Most of the people who come here don't have a good story behind it – not since Shanks took over. You should know that by now, Jimmy."

Sanji still wasn't crazy about Braeburn's mother hen attitude, but didn't mind in this instance.

"Sorry, Beebs," said Jimmy. He shook his head at Sanji. "I'm sorry – if you've got some wounds you're still licking, feel free to smack me if I'm picking at the scabs, okay?" He smiled at Braeburn and put his hand over his heart. "I got it from here – I promise I will be nicer to the newbie and show him around and not ask anymore prying questions unless I have to. Okay?"

"All right – I'll kick your ass if he's traumatized next time I see him," said Braeburn. He looked at Sanji in worry, crossing his arms. He's really worried about me – does he really like me that much? "You want me to swing by at the end of your shift to bring you back to Mac's? I don't mind – I've got stuff to do but-"

Jimmy whistled. "You're crashing at the mayor's house? Nice."

Braeburn ignored Jimmy. "Do you?"

Sanji shook his head. "No, Mac and Nami-san are coming by after they close up at town hall," he said. "I'll walk home with them. But thanks for offering, Braeburn." Braeburn smiled and gave Sanji a gentle hug, wishing him a good first day and enforcing his warning on Jimmy. Jimmy saluted as Braeburn left.

"Sorry about Beebs, he can be a worrywart and overprotective," said Jimmy.

Sanji shook his head. With everything that had happened he understood why Braeburn acted the way he did, although apparently this was normal for the blacksmith anyways. Had he been in the blacksmith's shoes he wasn't so sure he would have behaved much differently. "Is there a place I can put my coat?" he asked.

"Sure – we've got a break room in the back," said Jimmy. He gestured for Sanji to follow him. The back room was a typical break room – there was a coffee pot and several ceramic mugs, a table and some chairs, a coat rack with two coats on its, and some lockers. "Haralson's in his office crunching some numbers from last night. Paula will be in after we open up for the day and leave after close."

Sanji took off his jacket and hung it on the rack – he didn't have any other possessions to put into a locker, so he didn't ask. He turned to Jimmy to ask what next and saw him holding up a t-shirt. Sanji swallowed. "All of the cooks and wait staff get to wear one of these – it's got the name of the café embroidered nice and pretty by Miss Elstar and her ladies."

This wasn't an option as far as Sanji was concerned. The sweater he wore wasn't too bulky and he'd be able to cook just fine in it, but more importantly it hid the number on the back of his neck. He stared at Jimmy and shook his head no. "Uh, is there maybe a turtleneck or sweatshirt version of that running around?"

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "You okay, dude?"

Sanji debated what to do. If he argued too much, he might lose his job, and he wasn't going to screw it up, at least not on his first day. If he didn't say anything, though, Jimmy was going to find out anyways – the t-shirt's collar wouldn't cover it, not even a little, and unlike Nami he hadn't taken to wearing a wig.

Really, Sanji didn't have a choice. He had to tell Jimmy something, and so he chose his words carefully. "There's a scar on the back of my neck I'm a little sensitive about," he said. "I just . . . don't like it being uncovered." There. That was good enough. He didn't need to know where the scar came from, and Braeburn had already warned the other cook about prying questions.

The grey haired man wasn't bothered – he shook his head and smiled. "Oh, we can fix that," said Jimmy. He opened up one of the lockers, which looked like it held spare employee t-shirts. On the top shelf was a bunch of red, white, and black paisley fabric. "These are leftover from last year's harvest festival – we wore them to look more like farmers. It was kind of cheesy but whatever, they've got a new use now. You can tie this around your neck – will that work?"

Sanji nodded. "I think so."

The other cook grinned and nodded, wrapping an arm around Sanji's shoulders. "See? Just speak up if you need anything special and we'll make it happen for you – you know, within reason," said Jimmy. "Now go get changed –we've got some prep work to do!"

* * *

><p>Since the Cider Mug largely dealt in lunchtime meals, a lot of the prep work for the day was cutting up meats, tomatoes, and cheeses for sandwiches. Once Sanji was done preparing the soups for the day (a beef barley and a corn chowder) and left them to simmer, he joined Jimmy in slicing tomatoes to be put into a metal bin.<p>

"So what's everyone here like?" Sanji asked.

Jimmy shrugged. "Well you already met Cliff," he said. Sanji nodded. Cliff Haralson was a rotund man with a thick brown mustache and a round, rosy nose. He was much more jovial than Zeff, but still carried himself in a way than demanded respect. Other than their one meeting, through, Sanji really hadn't gotten much of a chance to know his new employer yet.

"Cliff's a decent guy, well liked by the other islanders and everything, but he's got a nasty temper – try not to piss him off," Jimmy advised. "It's not like he's on a hair trigger or anything, but I wouldn't play games with his fuse anyways. Just don't dick around or anything and you'll be fine – you know, normal best behavior stuff. He's quite the teddy bear when he's not angry."

Sanji held back a grimace. "Best behavior" was not his forte.

"Then there's Paula Red. Her favorite subject is her grandchildren and if you get her started on that subject good luck getting her off the subject or away from her once she's started. If you ever want to be bored to tears for three hours, though, ask her how they're doing," said Jimmy. He laughed. "Talented cook. Likes to put the wait staff on edge just to see 'em jump. She's sort of our unofficial sous chef, and she runs a very tight kitchen."

"I was sous chef at the last restaurant I worked at – I know where she's coming from there."

"Good," said Jimmy. "Now, normally we have two other guys – Macoun and Stayman – but they're both out for another week. They got hurt during cleanup after a snowstorm we had back in January and Gala's doesn't want them on their feet yet. You've met Gala, right? Island's only doctor?"

Sanji nodded, but felt a hint of discomfort. _Only doctor? That sounds familiar._ He shook off the feeling – Apple Island wasn't exactly a one-horse island, but it also wasn't another Alubarna or Water 7. Maybe one doctor was all they really needed for their size, or maybe he was training an apprentice or two that weren't doctors yet or something.

Still, an island with only one doctor . . .

"And then there's the sexy one. Me."

Jimmy's posturing broke Sanji's trance and he couldn't help smirking. "Little full of yourself?"

Jimmy snickered. "Hey, I am the drummer in Beebs' band – I'm the guy that girls sleep with to get backstage."

"Really?" Sanji asked skeptically.

Jimmy sulked. "Well. No. Not really, I mean, small island and all . . . you kinda know a lot of people . . . it would be messy. But on a bigger island, I would totally be that guy." He pointed at the stage area. "Obviously you've met Braeburn, our bass player, and that leaves my roommate and our guitar player, Darryl. You may have heard we booted our lead vocalist, Deltana, to the curb not too long ago for being an all around awful human being."

"Yeah. Braeburn seems sore about the subject."

"Core was his baby – it's a nice way to get a little extra cash doing something that's a lot of fun and Deltana sucked all the fun right out of it," said Jimmy, making a slurping noise at the end of his sentence to make a point. "Deltana doesn't seem to understand that this is a small island that doesn't get a lot of outside contact – there are no bright lights and flashy stages, this is small time on a small scale and we aren't going to get much bigger than we already are. But she acts like a fucking prima donna and we were tired of her horse shit."

"How so?" asked Sanji.

"Well, she showed up to shows and practices – if she even bothered to show at practices – trashed out of her mind. If something during a performance went wrong – mind you, never anything SHE did wrong and she probably screwed up more than the rest of us – she would flip out mid-show. Darryl, Beebs and I have tried to explain to her that strings and skins bust all the time, even during a performance and all you can do is smile, shrug, and continue on, but nope, she will stop mid song and shriek at us." Jimmy clenched his fists. "She is awful, terrible, and we've wasted enough time on her. What about you? What makes you tick, Sanji?"

Sanji wasn't sure what to say. The Baratie felt like ancient history, he didn't think talking about the Straw Hats was a good idea, and he sure as hell wasn't going to talk about what happened while that man had him prisoner. "I'm coming off a rough patch," he said slowly. "Really rough. You said it yourself – people don't just come to this island for fun."

Jimmy gave him a shoulder pat. "It's okay. You don't need to talk about that. But like, hobbies? Favorite color? Favorite curse word? Least favorite . . . brand of . . . whiskey?"

Sanji laughed. "Well, I don't really have much for hobbies outside of cooking, although when I was healthier I was a very skilled martial artist – I'll pick it up again once I've put some more weight back on and Gala gives me the okay. My favorite color is blue, I say 'shit' like it's going out of style, and I've never been a big fan of whiskey – wine is my weakness, but I'm on doctor's orders to not drink for a while so it doesn't matter."

"Ooo, you respond to random questions," said Jimmy. He eye Sanji carefully. "Favorite animal."

"Ah . . . not sure."

"Tattoos?"  
>Sanji winced at the thought of what was on his neck. "Um, no."<p>

"Preferred female body part?"

Easy one. "I prefer the whole picture."

"Ooo, I like that answer. I usually says 'boobs' but I might use that one sometime. May I?"

Sanji shrugged. "Be my guest."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the newest crouton in our little salad!" Sanji was a little stunned to be suddenly grabbed from behind and he nearly screamed, but the warm laughter and sudden release made him realize it wasn't anything to be afraid of. He smiled nervously at Haralson, whose smile was like a rhinestone studded belt buckle in the sun. "How do you like it so far, huh? Jimmy going easy on you?"

"Cliff, didn't we have a meeting last month about inappropriate use of food metaphors?" Jimmy seemed annoyed by the " salad" quip and, the more Sanji thought about it, he wondered what the implications of being called a "crouton" was (actually, he still wasn't sure why Zeff called him "baby eggplant" all the time, either). The other chef walked over to a glass jar filled with money. "Five hundred berries."

Haralson frowned. "I don't-"

"You heard me."

Sanji turned to Jimmy in confusion, surprised to see such a serious look on his face as the owner begrudgingly dropped a crumpled note in the jar. He remembered a brief phase that Zeff had tried a swear jar at the Baratie (everyone was broke or in debt after three hours, which nearly led to a mutiny) but was this a . . . _bad food pun jar?_ "Do I even want to ask?"

"It was getting to be a problem," Jimmy said dryly. Cliff pouted. "You agreed to this."

". . . yeah, I guess I did," said Haralson. He turned his attention back to Sanji. "And? How're you adapting to our menu? I know you're used to finer cuisine so . . ." Jimmy raised an eyebrow at his boss, who laughed. "He's been, well, a bit classically trained." He patted Sanji on the shoulder. "If this island had a fancier restaurant, I'd feel bad taking him in."

"I'm just happy to be able to work in a kitchen again," Sanji said. Food was food, and he was happy to be working with it again. He felt comfortable when surrounded by pots and pans and stove tops and ovens, and it didn't really matter much to him what he was making (although he did pull out all the stops for Nami-san and any other girl on Luffy's ship).

Besides, ham sandwiches were better than That Man's ship any day.

"Just how fancy was this food?" asked Jimmy.

Sanji started to feel self conscious. "Five star?"

Jimmy stared at him, dumbfounded. "How does a five star sous chef end up . . . no, no, right."

Haralson sighed. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

"No, it's fine," said Sanji, forcing a smile. The memories were starting to hurt. "I, um, don't think anyone's started on the onions yet. I'll start on those." He could sense Jimmy and Haralson exchanging an uncomfortable look as he started to look for some onions, the perfect cover to shed some tears out in the open.

* * *

><p>The restaurant opened, and Sanji realized very quickly how out of practice he was at handling a busy kitchen and how sorely understaffed the Cider Mug really was – whoever Macoun and Stayman were, their absence was felt. Although there were a handful of waiters and waitresses (Sanji caught none of their names and he wasn't sure they'd even noticed there was a new cook behind the counter) to bring orders to hungry customers, it was still non-stop.<p>

Although That Man did occasionally have them do some kind of physical activity to check their heart rates, Sanji was sorely out of shape from the year he'd spent there. It also dawned on him that, despite his captain's appetite, the demands of being the cook for a small pirate crew weren't as strenuous as those placed on a cook in a busy restaurant, even if most of what he was preparing was sandwiches.

He wasn't sure he was going to last the first day.

Sanji had barely noticed the entrance of the middle aged woman working with him and Jimmy behind the counter. This was the last of the cooks, Paula Red. She had cedar brown hair tied in a bun and a determined look in her eyes as she processed orders, heating hot sandwiches and dealing out the pieces of cold sandwiches like a blackjack dealer. She made him feel insufficient.

"Hey, Greenhorn, we're nearly out of provolone, go start slicing!"

Jimmy nudged his head towards the prep station. "I think she's talking to you."

Sanji slid back to the chopping block, trying to concentrate on slicing. The restaurant was loud and rowdy, maybe even louder than either of his galleys as Luffy's cook, maybe as loud as a day on the Baratie when pirates decided to attack. Paula and Jimmy were calling for more ingrediants ("Tomatoes are almost gone!" "I've got five roast beef sandwiches to make and not even enough for on, Greenhorn!").

_We're barely keeping up – how did they do this all alone?_

"Honey ham – no, not that!"

"Lettuce!"

"CLIFF! WE NEED MORE HANDS BACK HERE!"

The ingredients were starting to blur together. Sanji felt like he was in a nightmare. This was a _kitchen_ and he was working with _food_, yet he may as well have been trying to construct one of Usopp's inventions from scratch, blindfolded and blitzed on the stuff that made the swordsman tipsy. Why was he struggling to keep up with making _stupid sandwiches!?_

_I've cooked some of the finest meals the East Blue has ever seen, so why am I-_

"_Greenhorn!_"

Sanji felt a hand on his wrist and for a moment, time froze.

The blade of the knife was mere hairs away from slicing his thumb clean off.

Shaking, Sanji watched helplessly as Paula took the knife away from him, a disappointed look on her face. "You need to get the fuck away from sharp, pointy objects and go make sandwiches before you hurt yourself and you're useless to me. I will do the prep."

In that moment, Sanji's terror nearly matched his fear of That Man finding them. "I-"

"NOW!"

* * *

><p>The rush went down in about an hour, and Sanji couldn't haven't been happier. He'd been trembling since the incident with the knife, both because he had nearly destroyed one of his most prized possessions, and also because, for some reason, Paula had terrified him. This matronly, middle-aged woman had actually scared him.<p>

And _how_ could this woman possibly scare him? He'd outsmarted one of the seven warlords of the sea, and that man had nearly killed his captain _twice_. He'd brought down a man who thought he was God, and this was after that same man had electrocuted him. He'd almost single-handedly brought down the _Puffing Tom_, facing a small army of Marines and government agents with only Franky and Usopp (_*sigh* -SOGEKING-_) for assistance.

Yet this woman made him feel like he was a child again.

Sanji felt even less oriented than before.

When there were only two sandwiches to be made and a healthy amount of ingredients sliced, Paula put her hand on his shoulder and started to lead him to the break room. "Jimmy, give me a yell if you need anything – Greenhorn and I need to have a little chat." Sanji watched as Jimmy gulped nervously.

Once in the break room, Paula sat Sanji down and took a seat across from him. He closed his eyes, fully expecting to be yelled at, possibly fired (if Paula was second to Haralson she might have the power to do that or, at the very least, talk their boss into it), and humiliated. He felt tense and stiff and sick to his stomach.

_What did That Man do to me?_

Sanji was surprised to feel a hand on his forehead. "No fever, so I don't think you're sick – at least, not that kind of sick – sweating like a pig, though." He opened his eyes and saw Paula's eyes had softened considerably. She grasped his hand – the one that had nearly lost a thumb – and clucked her tongue. "Haralson mentioned that the mayor said you and your little friend were in a bad place for a while. Having trouble coping?"

Sanji lowered his eyes.

"Trauma takes a while to heal from," said Paula. She produced a cold bottled drink and passed it to him. "Everyone on this island knows that. And that includes those who've come to live here since who weren't born here. Shanks is a good man but we know where he stands in the eyes of the law and the rest of the world, so we know it's special when newcomers arrive on our shores. No one comes to this island with a happy story to tell."

Sanji looked away. "No. It's not."

"Didn't think so." Paula continued to stare him down. "I tasted your soup and listened to Haralson's rave reviews of your cooking. Haralson doesn't talk like that and your soup was better than anything the slobs in this joint are used to – I don't know if you were paying attention but we ran out of your soup ninety minutes after we opened. You have a gift, and I'd hate to see it go to waste over a careless accident."

It was all making Sanji very nauseous. His hands were his livelihood, his passion, a large part of who he was and tied to one of the only parts of himself he didn't lose during his captivity. Losing one of his hands would break him beyond repair, especially if it was by his own doing over something as stupid as not paying attention when slicing luncheon meats.

"I'm sorry."

"Breathe. Don't worry about apologizing to me – it's not my thumb you nearly cut off. But we need to get your head in a better place. Hopefully Macoun and Stayman will be off the mend soon so that when we get busy like that it's easier to manage – trust me, it will get that busy, but you'd be surprised what another cook or two can do to alleviate that pressure."

Sanji hated being treated with this kind of pity. He was stronger than that, even with his body the way it was after a year of what That Man had done to him and Nami. He clenched his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the table. He felt Paula's hand on his and he looked at her in surprise – she seemed to be almost grinning. "Well if you're that pissed off you're being treated like a hatchling then you'll just need to gussy up sooner rather than later."

"I guess so."

* * *

><p>A couple of hours after the talk with Paula Red, Mac and Nami showed up, signaling the end of Sanji's first shift. He gave polite farewells to Jimmy (who gave him a bear hug and promised him things would get better) and Haralson (who told him he did a great job on his first day and he'd do well at the Cider Mug) before leaving with the mayor and his crewmate.<p>

Paula gave him a knowing look.

"How did your first day go?" Nami asked.

Sanji shuddered. "It was a rough day."

Nami frowned. "Well, I've got something back at Mac's house that'll make you feel better." She gave him a hug and a smile and for a small moment, Sanji forgot about being babied and nearly cutting off his thumb and the stress of that first understaffed day at work. After all, Nami was smiling, and those were still a rarity.

* * *

><p>"Close your eyes," Nami said.<p>

Sanji laughed, his hands out in front of him as they slowly headed toward's Mac's guest room. "You're leading me to the guest room with your hands over them – even if they were open I couldn't see anything, Nami-san," he said. "Besides, what's with all the secrecy anyways? I thought we were closer than that."

"We are, but did you honestly forget what today was?" asked Nami.

". . . Tuesday?"

"Month and day, Sanji-kun . . . although you're not wrong."

Sanji stopped in his tracks. "I didn't."

Nami patted his shoulder. "It's okay, we've been through a lot lately."

"I forgot my own birthday," he said. He whined. "You didn't-"

"Shush, and you're almost at one of the beds so sit down," Nami countered. Sanji sighed, found the edge of a bed, and took a seat. There was the sound of a tray table opening, and something being set on it. He felt Nami sit next to him and heard the striking of a match. He grinned. He could also smell frosting, cake, and after she lit them, melting candles. "Okay, you can open them now."

Sanji opened his eyes and saw a small cake sloppily decorated with blue icing and fish-shaped candies. The candles looked like a two and a one, and Nami was smiling from ear to ear. "Happy Birthday, Sanji-kun." She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, and Sanji couldn't hold back a little grin at the gesture.

Friendly little kisses on the cheek or the forehead were becoming commonplace for them, but paired with the small birthday cake he couldn't help but feel more than he usually felt these days. "Thank you, Nami-san," he said. As he divided the cake into thirds (Mac had other business to attend to that evening but Sanji wanted to save their host a piece), Sanji kept an eye on Nami and wondered if his libido was really all that dead after all.

He paused mid slice. _No. Don't fuck this up. You CANNOT fuck this up._

"Sanji-kun?"

"Nothing." It was a simple yellow cake, but the gesture was more than enough for him. "Did you decorate this yourself?"

"Yeah, I did. It's not very good, is it?" she said.

Sanji shook his head. "I like it. I see what you were trying to do, and the fish candy is a good way to compensate if you don't know how to make shapes with frosting or marzipan. Besides, I like these, they're delicious." To prove his point he smiled, opened his mouth, and tossed one in. Nami smiled back as Sanji passed her a slice of her own.

The two sat in silence as they ate, absently looking around Mac's guest room and exchanging awkward smiles every so often. Although Mac was starting to refer to it as "their" room, that never felt quite right to them. No matter how gracious he was or how much he insisted they make themselves comfortable, it just never felt like home.

Nami stared out the window at the town, an idea starting to form. "You know, Mac told me that there are some rooms for rent and apartments on the island – a couple of dedicated buildings, yes, but mostly small homes above shops that the owners sometimes rent out to young couples and small families . . ."

"You want to get an apartment, Nami-san?" asked Sanji.

"If we split the rent we might be able to get something decent," said Nami.

Sanji's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "Together?"

Nami looked at him in surprise. "Well, yeah."

Sanji wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it would get them out of Mac's hair (although he'd probably continue mother henning them for a while anyways) and give them a foothold to assert some independence and privacy as they tried to figure things out and heal. They still weren't over the inability to sleep alone and they had no desire to leave the other anyways.

On the other, getting an apartment with someone, even someone he was as close to as Nami, seemed a bit daunting. He'd never had to really worry about something like that before – the Baratie and the Going Merry and the Thousand Sunny had all just kind of been there. Apartments didn't ask you to join their pirate crew – they had to be found, paid for, and neighbors wouldn't be the same as the other chefs of the Baratie or Luffy's crew.

"Sanji-kun?" Nami asked.

Sanji looked around the room one last time. Even if they had jobs and started paying rent, Shanks did suggest they try to blend in a little, and living with the mayor seemed very awkward. He turned back to Nami – she seemed perfectly relaxed with the idea, and he wondered why. "Nami-san, there's a lot going into finding a place, money alone is-"

Nami rolled her eyes and laughed. "Sanji-kun, I don't mean right now or anything – we'd need a few weeks to save up for the rent, and we'd need to have, you know, stuff to put in it – we can sell off things that we won't be able to take on the Thousand Sunny, like furniture or whatever, when the time comes that Luffy's here and we're ready to start sailing again . . ." She put her hands on his. "Are you with me?"

Sanji nodded. "All right. Let's do this."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

That chapter basically hung out the window of an SUV and screamed "I DO WHAT I WANT" the entire time.

Tiny retcon: Instead of last chapter taking place three weeks after they washed up on Apple Island, it'll be changed to "about a month/four weeks". That'll be changed on LJ, , and AO3 after this chapter is posted.

Writing process. Yup.

Been a busy couple of months. Convention, my mom got re-married, had a cough since August (no, seriously, I'm not kidding, it sucks, fuck this cough), temp job that I thought would go permanent but then there was a massive layoff, I started reading American comic books, voted in the election (and I live in a swing state !), got my ears pierced, very exciting things.

Most of the islanders only take one part of their name from an apple cultivar, usually their family name, there are some varieties that are perfectly acceptable full names. Jimmy's last name is "Grieve", and "James Grieve" is a type of apple cultivar. So most of the time first names don't have meaning.

With about four important exceptions.

Mac's full name is McIntosh Smith, so in his came his first name is a type of apple (and my personal favorite to eat). His last name also has some meaning but it's more important to his mother and I'll let you guys piece that one together.

Ria's first name comes from her namesake in my _Ronin Warriors_ fanfiction as she's something of an "AU reboot" of the character. There may be roles for the other major OCs from that series later on.

Wendy and Sundae's first names are also important, but I'm not going to say what because where Ria and Mac are both examples of an homage, the twins' names are **plot relevant** ~_^ Have fun with that (and don't worry, that won't be a "near end-game" reveal like the Going Merry, it'll come out somewhere around the halfway point).

-Dixxy


	11. The Sapphire Witch

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Ten: The Sapphire Witch

Although Nami's desire to collect and horde money had faded considerably, her head was still great with numbers and Sanji was a tiny bit mesmerized watching her crunch the numbers together, muttering things and writing down something in a notebook to keep track of what went where. Sanji wasn't terrible with numbers himself, but his expertise was more in fractions and measurements – things that were useful to a cook. He could handle finances, too, but the business side of running a restaurant was his least favorite aspect so he didn't really LIKE dealing with the books.

Sanji was perfectly content to let Nami manage their attempts to save up for this apartment.

So, with part of their paychecks going towards rent/food bills (which Mac tried to decline) and keeping a small amount for his own devices, the bulk of their money was kept in the bottom drawer of a dresser they shared, with Nami noting every beli that came in and out. Sanji largely forgot what they were saving up for and was mostly content to continue on with the new routine he was developing.

Once the other cooks returned to work at the Cider Mug, the lunch rush became much more manageable and Sanji was able to get back into his grove, earning him a few more hours of work and a slight pay raise when Haralson asked him to start doubling his batches of soup in the morning. They were getting along well with Mac, and Cobbler was starting to prefer sleeping in their room. Ria and Braeburn came over to visit, sometimes together and sometimes alone, sometime with the twins in tow (Wendy and Sundae ALWAYS had more pictures for them). Dr. Gala seemed cautiously optimistic about their recovery (and a little annoyed they'd started work, even part time work) but always left with words of encouragement for me.

* * *

><p>Three and a half weeks later, Nami greeted him outside of the Cider Mug with a bright smile.<p>

"We have a deposit and a first month's rent!" she said excitedly, clapping enthusiastically,

"Um . . ." Sanji was a little lost. What the hell was she talking about?

"For the apartment. We need to put down a deposit and we need to have the first month's rent," said Nami. She frowned, moving her arms around to try and get him to remember. "Remember? We were talking about moving out of Mac's place? Asserting our independence? Getting our groove back? Ringing any bells?"

It was, but it wasn't making any sense to the cook. How could they have saved up that kind of money that quickly at the rate they were working and earning money? Even considering they were spending next to nothing, there was no way they could have done it. "That fast? We saved it up that fast?" asked Sanji. "But, how?"

The two started to walk back to the mayor's house while the navigator explained where the money had magically materialized from. "Well, Mac refused to accept any of rent or food money, even when I tried to sneak it to him, and between the two of us not really doing a whole lot of spending . . . yeah, we're good for it," said Nami. "There's even some extra – we can get a couch or a table or something, too."

Sanji raised an eyebrow. "That still doesn't seem possible."

Nami shook her head and pulled out a notebook. "Okay, see, here's my weekly income-"

Sanji's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Nami was making THREE TIMES as much as he was getting at the Cider Mug. Even considering that her job was gaining hours a little bit faster than his was, it was still a daunting pay scale difference. He guessed she might be making a little bit more than him but this was more humble pie than he was expecting to be served. "You make THAT much more than me!?"

Nami shied away a little. "Um . . ."

Sanji realized he was being rude, composed himself, and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I get that 'secretary to the mayor' pays more than 'part time cook at small restaurant'." He paused, stood in front of her, and took her hands when he realized what this all meant. "Nami-san, that means most of that rent and deposit money is yours."

Nami glowered at him for a moment. "Is this because I'm a woman?"

It took him a moment to realize what she was implying and he shook his head vigorously. "What? No! That's not it!" said Sanji. "We're supposed to be sharing the apartment, right? I should be paying half. I don't need or want you to pay more than your fair share." He sighed. "This whole moving out on our own thing was supposed to be about asserting our independence and taking control of our lives again . . . it isn't good for either of us to be a crutch for the other, financial or not."

"I don't mind," she said. "You don't even have to pay me back."

"There's a difference between accepting money you're owed and . . . what you did to everyone back with Luffy, and the former is okay. Look, if you want to move ahead with the search right away that's all right, but at least give me an opportunity to pay you back," said Sanji. "I mean, maybe I can get a second job."

She shook her head. "Sanji-kun, you don't need to get a second job," said Nami.

Sanji shrugged. "You're going to be at town hall if Mac has you working full time way more than I'm going to be at the Cider Mug for a while – I don't mind grabbing a second job to make some extra money and kill some extra time when you're not home. I mean, what am I going to do all day with myself? Knit?" He looked at her with a pout. "I don't know how to knit, Nami-san."

Nami sighed and laughed. "Okay, okay, I'm not going to stop you. But are you sure?"

"Sure. It can't be that hard to find a second job, right?"

* * *

><p><em>Two days later . . .<em>

* * *

><p>Sanji quickly learned that he was wrong.<p>

Working for Haralson, it would be a conflict of interest for Sanji to work for one of the other food places in town (none of which were hiring anyways, so the point was moot). Additionally, he had no other practical skills that would make him useful anywhere else – he didn't have farming skills or blacksmithing skills or anything else useful.

Mac suggested being a store clerk. "Operating a cash register is pretty easy – I think."

That approach didn't work, either. Aside from a few particularly observant regulars at the Cider Mug and those who had been to town hall recently, most of the people of the island didn't have a clue who Sanji or Nami was. The reluctance to hire a stranger was obvious, and establishment after establishment left him feeling awkward, unwanted, and slightly poorer.

Eventually, Sanji found himself outside of a dress shop with a pink and yellow sign advertising it as The Apple Blossom. The signs in the window also offered tailoring and seamstress services, and he realized this was probably Ria's shop. The building was a bright sunshine yellow, with the door frames painted with flowers and butterflies. Although a dress shop wasn't his dream job, at least Ria would be nice to him if she wasn't hiring.

Sanji let himself into the shop. There were a few mannequins modeling dresses and suits and some shelves and racks carrying more standard clothing items for men, women, and children, but most of the walls of the shop were lined with different kinds of fabrics and trims and thread and other things used to make clothing. Evidently Ria did a lot more custom work than he or Nami realized.

As for the proprietor herself, Sanji saw the familiar red-head with her head buried in her folded arms, screaming into the counter. Sanji approached gently, sensing that Ria was likely . . . stressed out or something. Just as his hands were about to touch the countertop, Ria's head snapped up and she opened her mouth to yell. "WHAT – oh, I'm sorry Sanji, how can I help you today, sugah?"

Sanji froze from the outburst and decided to tackle her problem before he tackled his own. "Are you all right?"

Ria sighed and frowned. "No."

"What's wrong?"

The seamstress held up a notebook half ready to explode with extraneous, color pieces of paper. "This is wrong. I've got about a bazillion orders to fill by the end of the week, and I'm down two seamstresses right now – three, actually. One of my customers just came in here demanding why a dress I promised her next week isn't done yet and proceeded to berate me for not getting my work done on time. I had to show her the work order and explain to her five times that I told her the dress wasn't going to be done until next week, then I find out her stupid party got moved up so she tried to get her dress moved up and I'm sorry, but that is NOT my problem. Hence why you probably saw me screaming."

Sanji frowned. "That sounds unpleasant."

"It was, sugah. I'm so pissed right now. I only had four girls working here. One of them just had a baby and being a mother myself I'm not about to pull her away from that little bundle of joy before she's ready – I'm not mad at her. But I had another one walk out on me yesterday over something stupid and petty – she can kiss my ass," said Ria. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, you've got enough problems to sort out, I'm sure. I'll figure something out."

"Well, um, actually, the reason I'm here is that I'm looking for a second job," said Sanji. "Nami-san and I want to get an apartment and move out of Mac's house and so far everyone on the island's shot me down. I was wondering if maybe I could run your register for you or something? I don't know how to sew so I can't help you there but . . . maybe there's something else I can do for you?"

Ria considered this for a moment. "You willing to do something a little dangerous?"

Sanji looked around the shop and laughed. "The most dangerous thing in here is needles and I already told you I don't sew." He crossed his arms. Ria clucked her tongue and shook her head. "No? Not the most dangerous thing in here?" She nodded. "Look, I know you probably don't think I'm back in fighting condition – and to be fair, you'd be right – but I was a pirate, I think I can handle anything you can throw at me." _Seriously, what would a seamstress have that would qualify as dangerous? _

The seamstress grinned coyly. "You sure, sugah?" she said, her voice tinged with amusement.

"Positive."

Without missing a beat, Ria started to head towards the stairs, looking back at him with a mischievous wink. "Okay, just remember, I'm one of the only people on this island with combat training and you're still on the mend, meaning that I can and I will murder the shit out of you if something bad happens to them."

Sanji blinked. "Them?" And suddenly he realized what he'd just agreed to.

_And this is what we call a "mistake"._

"WENDY! SUNDAE! SANJI'S GOING TO TAKE YOU OUT FOR ICE CREAM!"

* * *

><p><em>Baby-sitter<em>.

After getting the twins ice cream (in which Wendy demanded flavors that didn't exist and Sundae couldn't make up her mind, so he let them both have hot fudge sundaes with three flavors each), he'd swung by town hall to seek Nami's wisdom on what the hell he was supposed to do with a pair of toddlers for the next three hours.

"Now how did you end up a baby-sitter?" Nami asked. The two kept glancing over to where the twins were doodling on some scrap paper Nami had at her desk – they were quiet and loved to draw, but they WERE small children so there was no telling how long that would keep them entertained. "I thought you were trying to be a shop clerk."

"Ria's short-staffed at her shop and one of the few employees she has left was tied up watching the twins. She needed that girl relieved of toddler time to sew, and for some reason she thinks I'm baby-sitter material," Sanji said, keeping one eye on the girls as he talked with Nami. "So if today goes well she's going to pay me for watching them a few afternoons a week, triple if she needs me to watch them for a full day."

"What's a normal day pay?" Nami asked.

"This," said Sanji, writing it down. Nami whistled when she saw the number.

"That's really, really good money for baby-sitting, especially if she needs you the whole day" said Nami. "Although seeing as she's using you to give her more time to focus on work as opposed to, I don't know, going out to dinner or something, it's an important expense for her business. You're allowing her to bring more money into her home to keep food on the table for those little ones."

"That, or this is what she pays her regular employees and since she was paying them this rate to watch them anyways, what difference would it make if it's me doing it? Other than, well, freeing up her skilled labor to make fancy hats," said Sanji. He glanced back at the girls. They showed each other their drawings and giggled.

"Well they seem all right for the moment, and don't you want kids someday anyways?"

Sanji frowned. That was true – he did want to be a father someday and settle down with a wife and two to three kids, but between his relatively young age, his life goals not being completed (i.e. finding All Blue), and recovering from everything That Man had put him through, he certainly wasn't ready (or able, thanks to That Man) to be a father.

"You're only going to have them a few of hours out of the day, then they go back to Ria for the night. Most of the hard stuff you won't have to deal with – putting them to bed for the night, dealing with nightmares, handling bigger problems like bullies or sickness, whatever. Think of them as practice children," said Nami.

"Practice children," Sanji said dryly. "And what will Ria do to me if I scr- mess up?" He looked for signs that the girls had overheard his almost-swear word. The two caught him staring and help up pictures of the ice cream they'd just eaten, kicking their feet in their chairs. They were getting rowdy again (perhaps letting them have extra sprinkles wasn't such a good idea – those things were all sugar) and they'd probably need to leave soon.

"No parent is perfect – I'm quite sure Ria is doing plenty of 'messing up' herself, and she doesn't even have the twin's F-A-T-H-E-R in the picture for assistance," said Nami. "But it'll give you an idea on how to do the bare basics, right? Any exposure to watching children has got to be better than nothing." She beamed. "After you've dropped them off, come back here – I want to show you something."

"What?" asked Sanji.

Nami leaned forward and grinned. "I think I found the perfect apartment."

* * *

><p>After leaving town hall, Sanji wasn't sure where to take the twins. He thought they might be too little to play in the snow, and he wasn't sure where to bring children to entertain them. What was he supposed to do with toddlers? Babies he figured might be easier to amuse (wasn't stupid stuff like "peek-a-boo" a big hit with babies?) and older kids might better at entertaining themselves, but these little girls were a few months shy of three. Could they amuse themselves?<p>

About a block away from the Cider Mug, the trio happened upon the island's bookstore. Sanji had attempted to get a job here, too. The owner was a scatter brained sort going by Mr. Pinova who'd been wearing no less than three pairs of reading glasses (one pushed up on his head, one attached to a chain around his neck, and one sitting on the bridge of his nose). He'd been one of the more polite shopkeepers to turn Sanji down (citing that his stock was too unstable for even a part time employee), so a return trip didn't bother him much.

The real question was whether or not the twins would be interested in a book store. They were probably too young to read by themselves, although Sanji toyed with the idea of seeing if the shop had any picture books – the girls would probably be able to follow along with the pictures and he could probably read the words aloud to them.

"Are we going into the bookstore, Uncle Sanji?" asked Wendy, tugging on his coat sleeve.

"Can we look at ones with pictures? Word books are boring," said Sundae.

"When did I become 'Uncle' Sanji?" Sanji asked in curiosity as they entered the store.

The twins ignored his question as they started to open books, disappointed every time they found a "word" book and tossing them aside. Sanji tried to get them to stop, attempting to catch all of the books before they were wrecked while explaining to the girls that it was not okay to throw books.

He heard a belly laugh from the back of the shop – apparently Mr. Pinova was amused by the twins' antics. "You know, people assume that children are easy to please, but they're amongst the harshest critics in the world. An adult will give you the first few pages if you're lucky, but a child will toss you aside – literally, in this case – if you don't catch their eye after the first few words."

"I am so sorry about this," said Sanji, finally managing to wrangle the toddlers. He gathered up their discarded books (mostly non-fiction books dealing with advanced mathematical theories – Sanji didn't agree with the twins' method, but he more or less agreed with their sentiment) and put them on the counter. Mr. Pinova simply, smiled folding his hands and putting them on the counter. "Do you have any suggestions for-"

"What's this, Uncle Sanji?" asked Sundae, pointing at a small spinning rack with a selection of comic books. Wendy joined her sister and they started to turn the rack, looking over the selection. Sanji's eyes widened – he hadn't read comics since his early days on _The Orbit_. He stared at the rack fondly, remembering reading the adventure stories by candlelight in his bunk at night.

"Those are comic books," Mr. Pinova said. "They tell exciting stories about adventures."

Wendy and Sundae turned to look at Mr. Pinova in wonder. "Adventures?" they asked in unison.

"Yeah, I used to read them when I was a kid," said Sanji.

"You use to be a kid?!" Wendy said in amazement. "Wow!"

Sanji rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Yeah, you need to be a child before you get to be an adult."

"We're going to be adults one day?" asked Sundae, looking a little nervous.

"Well, not for a while – you've got a lot of growing to do first," Mr. Pinova said with a laugh.

"Aw, I wanted to be a fairy unicorn princess," Sundae said, sounding a little crestfallen.

Wendy pulled one of the comics out of the rack. "Can we get this one? The lady on the cover is pretty," she said. Sundae nodded in agreement and Sanji gently took the comic from the child, checking it over for violence or language that might be too mature for the girls or go over their heads completely. It looked like it was a collection of several issues, detailing several adventures of the main character and her friends. He flipped through the pages to get an idea of what the storyline was, decided it was safe for the girls, and dug into the rest of the money Ria had given him to entertain the girls with.

The girl on the cover was wearing a blue dress with a pointy blue witch's hat. She had short blonde hair in two braids and a spackling on freckles on each cheek. She was riding some sort of a large blue bird with what looked like flaming wings (a phoenix, maybe?) and was holding what had to be a magic want in one hand. The book's title, written in blue script, was _The Sapphire Witch_.

It wasn't a title he was familiar with, maybe it started after he stopped reading comics or wasn't being sold in the North Blue. It was about a girl who had a magic wand that transformed her into the Sapphire Witch, a hero who protected Sunshine Island with the help of a several animal companions who also looked like they fit the gemstone theme. Most of the adventures didn't seem like anything the girls couldn't handle, with things like "the Crusty Badger wants all of the town's toys for himself" and "the Green Horse tries to ruin Princess Honeycomb's birthday party" serving as plot lines. It was all very colorful, easy to follow, and hopefully enough to keep the girls entertained for the next two hours.

Wendy and Sundae seemed excited that the comic had been bought, and Sanji led them out of the store, telling the girls to wave good bye to Mr. Pinova and that they'd get some story time once he got them back to The Apple Blossom. The twins cheered loudly and bounced the entire way back to their mother's shop.

* * *

><p>Ria seemed slightly amused with Sanji's choice for the last leg of his baby-sitting effort, telling him he read to them in the upstairs apartment. "There's some milk in the fridge – that'll calm them down enough so you can actually read to them without having to do too much wrangling," she said. The girls were already on their way up to the apartment, yelling down to Sanji that it was story time. Ria laughed. "You did this to yourself, sugah."<p>

"It wasn't as bad as you made it out to be," said Sanji. "They behaved just fine."

"Oh really? They got you to buy a comic."

"You gave me plenty to pay for their ice cream and I had leftovers."

Ria frowned. "Didn't you get any ice cream for yourself?"

Sanji sighed. "I still need to be careful with what I eat for a while yet, but thanks anyways."

The seamstress shrugged. "You know, come to think of it, they're fully aware you were sick for a while – maybe they decided to go easy on you," said Ria, crossing her arms. She smiled. "But hey, at least you didn't end up covered in chocolate pudding . . . or lit on fire." Sanji's draw dropped – chocolate pudding, well, he'd seen small children eat before so that made sense, but he couldn't fathom Wendy and Sundae actually . . .

_I don't want to know._

* * *

><p>Ria's apartment was a little messy, but seemed like the kind of mess a single mother of two might have. The sink was full of dirty dishes and there were stuffed animals on the couch and easy chair. Two abandoned coloring books were on the coffee table, and Sanji spied a massive laundry bag down the hall where the bedrooms presumably were.<p>

After getting the girls their milk (which Wendy wanted to drink from a straw – straws were hidden in one of the cabinet behind some sugary children's cereal with an almost terrifyingly happy walrus on the box), Sanji ushered the girls to the couch, sat himself on the middle cushion, and patted the spaces beside him.

"Okay, let's start at the beginning," he said, crossing his legs. This was the origin story of the Sapphire Witch and started with her secret identity, Mimi Whistleberry, walking along a country road. "Mimi Whistleberry was walking home from her grandmother's house after a day of baking pies," Sanji read aloud.

"What kind of pies?" asked Sundae.

"It doesn't say," said Sanji.

"So how do we know what kind of pie she was baking?" asked Wendy, crossing her arms at him.

Sanji looked at the panel again – there was a house in the background (presumably belonging to the grandmother) and outside were rows of low-lying bushes with pinkish-red dots. "Looks like strawberry pie – see those bushes? They look like strawberry bushes to me." The twins seemed to accept this answer and started pointing at the next panel, where Mimi was talking.

"Okay so Mimi says 'I'm so glad-'"

"You're doing it wrong," said Wendy.

Sanji raised an eyebrow at Wendy. "And you learned to read in the last five minutes?"

"No, I'm almost three, I can't read," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're talking wrong."

Sundae nodded. "Can you please read it in Mimi's voice, Sanji?"

Sanji sighed. He considered protesting, but he was outnumbered and they were giving him sad puppy dog eyes. All right, he'd give them theatrics. He cleared his throat and tried to raise his voice as best he could. "'I'm so glad Granny and I were able to get all of those pies ready for the festival tomorrow night! It's going to be so much fun!'" Wendy and Sundae patted his arms, nodding in approval.

_The stupid swordsman would never let me hear the end of this if I was here._

* * *

><p>As the afternoon turned to early evening, Sanji continued to read, making up voices for other characters as they came up, and soon found he was getting rather into it. By the time the King of the Forest Goblins appeared to steal the pies so he could have them all to himself ("But won't that give the goblin a tummy ache if he tries to eat all the pies by himself? Wendy and I got tummy aches when we ate one pie by ourselves and we barfed on Uncle Braeburn's couch," Sundae had quipped), he was making silly faces and hand gestures at the girls, which had them giggling and clapping happily.<p>

By the time the second story had ended, Sanji was so absorbed with entertaining the twins that he hadn't noticed Ria and Nami standing by the top of the stairs, watching in amusement. Sensing their mother was done with work, the twins cheered and rushed to her side to latch onto the seamstress's sides. "Looks like you did okay," said Ria.

"I really liked the voice you gave Princess Honeycomb," Nami said teasingly. Sanji pouted – he'd manufactured a prim and proper accent for the princess character that, coming out of him, was particularly ridiculous. Nami laughed and walked over, kissing his forehead. "She sounded like a very pretty princess."

"Not as pretty you," Sanji joked back. Nami seemed a little taken aback, and even the cook took a moment to pause. It had been a long time since he'd said anything flirty to her. He blushed and looked away, unsure if he'd crossed a line. He'd mostly meant it as a friendly retort to her "pretty princess" comment but he couldn't help but wonder if it had come across the wrong way. "Um, sorry, I didn't mean to – I mean you're not ugly but I wasn't trying to insinuate- I'm an idiot."

Nami shook her head, looking a little confused and flustered herself. "Don't worry about it."

"What are you doing here anyways? I thought I was meeting you at town hall," said Sanji.

"Seems like story time ran a little late and Nami got antsy when you didn't show up," said Ria. The twins looked up at her with frowns. "What? He'll be back to watch you again and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to read you more stories about the Sapphire Witch." She gave Sanji a wink and a nod, silently letting him know he had a steady second job if he wanted it.

The twins cheered, excited at the prospect of more story time, breaking away from their mother to tackle Sanji from either side. "Thank you, Uncle Sanji!" they said in unison. Sanji smiled, ruffling their hair a bit before they decided to go back to their mother, bouncing up and down as they traversed the living room floor.

"Okay, kids, thanks for going easy on him, for me," said Nami.

"Not a problem, Auntie Nami!" said Wendy.

Nami seemed a bit confused by the new moniker, looking at Ria for an answer. The seamstress shrugged. "They continually adopt aunts and uncles – my personal favorite was Uncle Shanks," she said with a chuckle. "Took it like a pro. He just went along with it and wore the daisy chain necklace they made for him with a smile."

"He was pretty," said Sundae, nodding confidently.

Sanji and Nami weren't sure what the appropriate reaction to this was. Shanks was one of the Four Emperors, one of the most powerful pirates sailing the seas right now . . . and he'd allowed a pair of little girls to dress him up in flowers. _I guess Shanks must really care about the people on this island, _Sanji thought to himself.

Then again he could see Luffy going along with that, too.

"Okay then – we'll make sure Uncle Sanji baby-sits you again really soon, but right now I need to go show him something, okay?" Nami said, leaning forward with her hands on her knees. The twins each gave her a hug, and then ran over to give Sanji another hug, and then said their goodbyes and disappeared down the hall.

"Thanks again, Sanji – let's say Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to start?" said Ria. Sanji nodded, smiling and finding himself looking forward to being a baby-sitter again. He shook Ria's hand, thanked her when she slipped an envelope of money into his other hand, and waved as he followed Nami down the stairs and out of the shop.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Mr. Pinova's absent-mindedness is based on that thing where someone has their glasses on top of their head but keeps searching around for them anyways, oblivious to where they are.

I originally wanted this chapter to focus on the new apartment, but Sanji's second job as a baby-sitter really needed some setup, too, and I didn't want their new home to be tacked onto the end of another chapter. That chapter is almost done but feels a little too lean for my liking – going to work on bulking it up some before sending it off for beta.

-Dixxy


	12. Apartment 3C

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Eleven: Apartment 3C

The building Nami brought Sanji too looked like a large, brick house at least four stories tall and a bit longer than the Thousand Sunny. Although there were some flower beds just starting to bud in the front, there was what looked like a full garden on the east side of the house with creeping vines crawling up the white fencing. On the west side of the building there was a swimming pool, and for a moment Sanji thought it might be nice to go swimming in the summertime.

He almost cried when he remembered that wasn't possible anymore.

Nami started to talk about the building as she lead him up the path. "This was supposed to be a bigger, nicer mansion for the mayor – I guess the last guy was really greedy and wanted this built, but after the attack on the island happened and Mac was made the new mayor, he decided he didn't want a house that big but suggested it might be a good place for people to stay while the town was rebuilt. So they remodeled it into this so families could have their own spaces."

Sanji nodded dumbly as Nami led him through the front door. They were in a modest but comfortable looking lobby area with several chairs and couches to sit on. There was a stairwell on the back wall with a brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. After they took a seat on one of the couches, Nami pointed out that there was a place to do laundry on one side and the landlord's apartment was on the other. "His apartment is bigger than everyone else's, but he's got about five kids and his mother in law living there – he really needs the space," said Nami. "The other three floors all have four apartments each – two on the west side and two on the east side. We're going to be looking at the two-bedroom apartment on the east side, third floor."

"I guess a two bedroom apartment would make the most sense," he said, although he was silently concerned about their inability to sleep apart. Try as they might, it still wasn't happening for them. Nami patted his shoulder, mouthing to him an "I know" before leaning closer to him and cupping her hands over his ear.

"If we need to start off in the same room that's okay – as long as we're not, I don't know, making drugs or something it's no one's business but ours how we're using the rooms and once we can sleep alone one of us will move into the other bedroom," she whispered. Nami leaned back and gently took his hand. "It's really nice – you'll see why I love it once the landlord gets here."

As if on cue, a bald man came down the stairs. He was tall and very lanky, wearing grey dress pants and a purple button up shirt with a gigantic, too-happy grin on his face. "Ah, Miss Nami, how lovely to see you again!" The man walked right up to Nami, taking her hand and kissing it (which briefly made Sanji a little angry, but he let it slide – he didn't want to start a scene and get her upset). He was just as chipper when he saw him and vigorously shook his hand. "And this must be Mr. Sanji!"

"Sanji-kun, this is Ben Davis, the landlord," Nami said.

Mr. Davis look at Nami in confusion. ". . . '-kun'?" he asked.

"Oh, um, I've always just kind of called him that," she said. Nami laughed nervously. "I've just gotten so used to it that I've stopped thinking about it." She turned to Sanji, wringing her hands nervously. "I mean . . . does it bother you that I call you that? If it does I can stop . . . but it might take a while to break the habit . . . . I'm sorry."

Sanji shook his head. "I wouldn't have you call me anything else, Nami-san."

"And she's '-san'?"

Sanji crossed his arms. "Look, I know it's a little . . . different, but it's something familiar."

"Of course, my apologies," said Mr. Davis, bowing and frowning. Sanji and Nami exchanged a look – of course he knew they were newcomers to the island. Of course he knew what that usually meant. "This way, please – the vacancy is on the third floor, absolutely lovely space – would have been my first choice if I didn't need the space."

"That sounds promising," Sanji said calmly as they started to ascend the stairs.

Mr. Davis nodded. "I do want to apologize again."

"It's all right – we get it. Newcomers are rare and usually come with heavy baggage," said Nami.

"Indeed – since Shanks arrived we've only had a handful," said Mr. Davis. He started counting on his fingers. "Including the two of you, there have been six all told." He seemed to reconsider this. "Well, eight if you count the twins the island's seamstress delivered upon her arrival here, but since they were born here they sort of don't count? I suppose it doesn't matter."

Nami raised an eyebrow. "Ria was in labor when she got here?"

"Ah, you've met the town seamstress?"  
>"We actually just left her apartment – she's one of the first people we met," said Sanji.<p>

Mr. Davis nodded. "Mmm. She and the blacksmith, Marcus Braeburn – although if you know Ms. Elstar you probably know Braeburn, too – arrived together. Braeburn was very protective of Ms. Elstar and demanded to see a doctor as soon as their boat was docked. He was a bit nervous, probably because he saw Shanks' flag, but she was too close to giving birth to find another island. If I recall the story correctly, her water broke once she was on the dock. As luck would have it Shanks was visiting at the time and calmed their worries once the babies were born, and they decided to stay here."

Nami seemed to be thinking about something, but didn't voice it right away. Sanji made a mental note to ask her about it later as they arrived on the third floor landing. The hallway was floored in a dull, well-worn plum carpet and painted a pale blue color. The doors were all navy blue with brass letters and numbers labeling each apartment.

"There's an A, B, C, and D on each floor except the first," said Nami.

Sanji shrugged. He wanted to see what was so perfect about this apartment.

Mr. Davis produced a large ring of keys as he approached the door labeled 3C. "The last occupants were pair of sisters – they were married on the same day and moved out to live with their new husbands. They left everything in wonderful condition – possibly better than when they first moved in," he said with a grin as the lock finally clicked open.

The landlord stepped in first, then held the door open for Sanji and Nami. The redhead went in after, excitedly coaxing her companion to step over the threshold and see for himself. Once the cook stepped inside and looked around, he immediately knew what it was that drew the navigator to this apartment and why she was so excited.

The first part of the apartment was all one giant room with hardwood flooring – pine, if Sanji had to guess, but that wasn't the kind of thing he was an expert on, that was more Usopp or Franky's expertise – with a large peninsula separating the kitchen from the rest of the space – he'd heard the term "open concept" before and guessed this was what was meant.

The kitchen, from what he glanced (and it was a quick look at best), was a little on the snug side but he'd worked in smaller spaces before (the Going Merry's galley, for example), but with the right tools it would be fine for just the two of them. Still, even with all of his passion for food and cooking and all that encompassed the culinary arts, there was still something that demanded his attention even more than that kitchen.

On the east wall was a pair of glass pane doors.

Sanji slowly approached the doors, stunned by what he was seeing – the view was breathtaking. The only things to the east of the building were the garden, the tree line, the ocean, and the sky, and it was all framed by the door frame. Just outside of the doors was a small balcony with a wrought iron railing – a perfect place for a small table and pair of chairs for coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon. Sanji stepped outside to look around better – to one side he could see what must have been the island's precious apple orchards, and to the other side was the town.

This was why Nami had fallen in love with this apartment.

Nami had silently slid next to him. "We'd get to see the sun rise every morning," she said.

Sanji closed his eyes, leaning on the railing as he fought back tears. During his days as Luffy's cook, the sunrise was something he saw almost daily – if he wasn't up early to make breakfast, it was the signal for the end of a night watch shift. Over time he stopped noticing it for the sight it was, simply taking it as a measure of time.

And then he and Nami had been kidnapped and locked away in the dark, windowless hold of That Man's ship. After a year of nothing but metal walls, darkness, and chill of that ship, having a place like this to view the sunrise in the morning was almost more than they could have possibly asked for. He almost hated that it was late afternoon, but even with the sun on the opposite side of the building, possibly inspiring awe for the occupants in the west apartments, the scene was still colored with oranges and pinks and purples as the night began to creep over on the horizon.

"Can we afford this?" Sanji asked.

Nami nodded. "Indeed we can."

Sanji turned to the landlord. "When can we move in?"

* * *

><p>Three days later, Sanji and Nami were officially out of Mac's house. The mayor was sad to see them go, but happy that they felt strong enough to try living on their own. Cobbler, seeming to sense what was going on, was incredibly sad and whimpered at them as they left, bearing the few possessions they had accumulated since coming to the island.<p>

Their friends helped a little with getting them started as well. Mac chipped them a few thousand berries as a housewarming gift, encouraging them to start making the apartment into a home. Braeburn was waiting for them at the building with a full set of pots and pans (Sanji's attempt to contain his gratitude resulted in a high pitched squeal and hugging the blacksmith). Ria promised to either purchase or make them a housewarming gift once she was caught up at the shop, though she hinted at curtains. Last but not least, Gala gave them a tea set including a pot and matching cups as well as several herbal teas he felt may relax, soothe, and help heal them.

Apartment 3C sported the open-concept living area with kitchen, two bedrooms of comparable size (the master was only a few square meters larger than the other), a full sized bathroom, and a storage closet for things the pair currently didn't have. Using Nami's monetary sensibilities, they were able to find good deals on some of the basics they would need for the apartment and before long had a livable space.

The living room area was furnished with a colorful variety of second-hand pieces including an overstuffed easy chair in peacock blue, a "stupid swordsman green" loveseat (Sanji pointed out it looked like the swordsman's hair, and soon after they jokingly referred to it as "Zoro's loveseat"), and a red couch that was good for stretching out on. Underfoot was a rug that, after discovering a stain, Nami was able to haggle the price down a lot, and then they covered the stain with a coffee table that needed a book under one leg to keep from wobbling.

All of the apartments in the building were given the basic kitchen appliances (refrigerator with freezer, stove with oven, and a device Sanji wanted to declare his undying love to called a "dishwasher") so it was just plates, glasses, flatware, and the pots and pans Braeburn had made. There were still things Sanji wanted (chief among them a good set of chef's knives), but they both understood it wasn't going to be an overnight process to fully the furnish the apartment, even considering that it was a temporary living space.

Even with everything they'd gone through over the past year, Shanks' story about Luffy still searching for them after so much time had passed with renewing their hope that yes, their captain was coming for them soon and one day they would be able to leave this island and be pirates again. It may not be right away, but they were in an odd position where they wanted to be comfortable but not so comfortable it would be difficult to leave.

Except for one set of rooms.

Bedding was the place they decided to go the extra mile, and after a lengthy discussion about their inability to sleep apart, they settled on only one bed for the time being. Once they were able to sleep alone again, Sanji would sleep on the couch until they procured a second bed for the other bedroom. In the meantime, though, they found the best of everything the island could offer – mattress, sheets, pillows, etc. The only pieces they bothered to go second hand on was the frame, headboard, and footboard – those were immaterial to actual comfort, and Sanji let Nami choose one she wanted under the assumption that a month or two later they'd be repeating that trip for himself.

"I'm not leaving this bed," Sanji proclaimed, lying face first into his pillow and bundled up under the covers. Nami glanced over at him, watching him hug the pillow and sigh happily. She closed her book and put it in her lap. "This is the best thing ever. I am so comfortable right now. You're going to have to drag me out of here at gunpoint tomorrow morning."

Nami rolled her eyes. "Oh really?"

"I will stay here forever."

"And your job?"

Sanji whined.

"Luffy and the others?"

The cook pulled a pillow over his head.

"All Blue?"

Sanji went quiet. "Maybe."

Nami sighed. "Yeah, I like it too." She put her book on her nightstand (an old piece with chipped paint and a wobbly knob) and flicked off the lamp (which had a coral pink base and a lime green shade) before settling in herself. "We'll make sure we get another one for you when the time comes." She grinned mischievously. "You can probably even bring girls back here, right?"

Even though it was dark, Nami could scarcely make out Sanji pouting. "I . . . don't know."

"Sanji-kun, is everything okay? You've been acting . . . different . . . around girls. At least, different for you," said Nami. She reached over and touched his cheek. "Part of me can't believe I'm saying this but I'm a little worried that you aren't freaking out over every pretty girl you've seen since we've arrived. It's not like you."

Sanji sighed, tightening the covers around him. "I never told you about him."

"Who's him?" asked Nami.

"This . . . recurring hallucination I was having on the ship. It was me, but it wasn't me. Always in a suit and always mocking me, telling me that I was so lucky to be able to sleep with you at night because it's what I always wanted or reminding me of the feelings I've had for some of the women we've fought against in the past. I didn't like what he was saying." He closed his eyes. "I was _never_ turned on by cuddling with you in the holding cell."

"You tried to grab my ass once," Nami pointed out.

"Force of habit and I got over it quick and no, I wasn't even close to getting any of those kind of jollies from that," Sanji said. He took a deep breath. "Point is, it . . . made me reevaluate a lot of things. Being here made me reevaluate a lot of things, too – I've never had a friendship with another man like the one I have with Braeburn. Even with the other Straw Hats or the chefs at the Baratie – I was always fighting with them or yelling at them for something or being mean to them. It's not like that at all with Braeburn – we're civil. Almost like where you and I are now. And . . ."

Nami urged him on. "Go on."

"It makes me feel . . . awful, about how I treated the other Straw Hats – even you and Robin. We had our good moments, sure, but I was such a dick to the guys and I didn't even treat you and Robin right, either. I'm glad you and I are getting along so well but it frustrates me that the others aren't here because I have a lot of things I need to say to them, especially 'I'm sorry'." Sanji moved closer to her, resting his head by her shoulder. "I am."

"I have things I need to apologize for, too," said Nami, thinking about the "debts" the other Straw Hats "owed" her. "And I don't know how those conversations are going to go. But we know that Luffy was looking for us – whatever it was we did or didn't do right, it wasn't enough to make them not want us back after we disappeared. Luffy can't be the only one on that ship upset that we never made it back to the Thousand Sunny."

Sanji seemed to consider this. "It doesn't mean I'm ready to start dating again."

"You don't have to do it right away. And besides, it would be weird if either one of us tried to date right now with . . . this," Nami referred to the area around them, hinting at their sleeping arrangement. "Even if we know it's platonic, that would probably make someone else feel really uncomfortable."

"Unless they like three-ways," said Sanji. Nami stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed a little. "So you mentioned yourself there, too – are you thinking about dating, Nami-san?" He contemplated this a moment. "Actually, I've never seen you express interest in romance before – I know you told me you're still a virgin but have you ever gone on a date or anything?"

Nami shook her head. "No, I haven't. It's not that I wouldn't have minded it under different circumstances, but . . . I didn't want to get anyone else tangled up with Arlong. It wouldn't be fair to him. If Arlong found out I had a boyfriend he'd probably have him killed or use him against me somehow. Up until you and Luffy and the others saved the island, it just . . . wasn't an option for me."

"So you probably haven't been kissed. You know, outside of family, on the lips," said Sanji.

"Nope, never on the lips. Not even that. Just pecks on the cheek or the top of the head from Bellemere and Nojiko . . . and you, actually," said Nami. "I know Nojiko had her first kiss when we were children – it was some sort of a dare between a bunch of the boys on the island and she got mad and chased after them with a rake and then Bellemere got angry and I was just happy because I wasn't the one in trouble for once . . . but it never happened to me."

"Does that bother you?" asked Sanji.

"Not really – they probably assumed I'd react like Nojiko, and they were probably right," she said with a laugh. "But I guess now that I'm a few months away from twenty it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to dip my big toe in the ocean, you know?" She sat up. "What about you, Sanji-kun? What about your first kiss?"

"Ah, that," said Sanji, sitting up as well. He pulled his pillow into his lap and leaned over it. "I was about twelve, I think, and there was a girl around my age at the restaurant who was crying because she'd lost a bracelet her mom had given her, and the mother had passed away a few months earlier so she was really freaking out. A bunch of the other cooks and I searched all over the place for it and I was the one who found it. She was completely over the moon, threw her arms around me, kissed me, said thank you about a dozen times before she then ran off to leave with her father. I just kind of stood there like an idiot for five minutes until Zeff yelled at me to get back to work."

Nami laughed. "So you were her hero."

"Damn straight I was," said Sanji.

They were quiet for a while, but neither had fallen asleep – Nami could tell by the way Sanji was breathing that he was still awake. The conversation they had was keeping her mind a buzz, and a nagging thought refused to leave her alone. _No, that's crazy, Nami – don't think like that. _But the idea wouldn't budge, and she decided that she could handle whatever the worst possible outcome would be.

". . . say, I got a crazy idea." Nami was looking around coyly. Sanji had an odd feeling he knew where she was going with it. "You know, I've never been kissed before, and it would be nice to know it's someone I trust giving me my first one. Or, me giving them my first one. However it works, you know. So I was thinking maybe . . ."

"Are you serious?" Sanji asked incredulously. "You want me to be your first?"

"It's my first kiss, not my virginity," Nami said dryly. "And don't ask about the second one."

"No, no, of course not!" said Sanji, putting his hands up defensively. He lowered his defenses, looking at her with concern. He was game, it seemed, but he wanted to make sure she was up for this – really up for this, and that it wasn't some sort of passing fancy she'd regret later on. "Nami-san, you sure?"

Nami thought about it, then nodded.

"Okay," said Sanji. He moved a little closer to her, studying her face for a moment. Nami was studying his back, neither moving in too close too quickly. They stayed like that for a moment, the quiet of the room hanging over them like a thick blanket before Sanji closed the gap between them, closed his eyes, turned his head, and pressed his lips to hers.

Nami moved back a little at first, but stopped to gently lean into the kiss, putting her hands on his shoulder as he gently put his hands on her waist. It was gentle, sweet, and more pleasant than she had figured it would be. His lips and hands were warm and she could taste a hint of the tea he'd had after dinner on his lips. They stayed that way for a few second before Sanji pulled away, a small smile on his face.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Nami, putting her fingertips to her lips. "I . . . thank you."

* * *

><p>The following morning (which Nami had off but Sanji didn't), the pair got dressed and ate breakfast as normal, chatting briefly about their separate plans for the day (Nami was going to run some errands, Sanji would be babysitting Wendy and Sundae after he left the Cider Mug). After telling the cook she'd take care of the dishes, the navigator walked him to the door.<p>

"Have a good day at work," Nami said with a smile.

Sanji smiled back and winked. "Thanks for taking care of the dishes. You're my hero today."

After the door closed behind him, Nami felt the room go a little colder.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

See, a lot of times I like to watch anime and super hero movies, but, um, with the right shows I will watch the shit out of HGTV (straight ladies and gay gentlemen, check out Property Brothers just for the hosts AND BEST OF ALL THEY ARE TWINS SO IT'S TWO HOTTIES *paws at TV*) and I actually miss Linens N' Things (Bed Bad and Beyond doesn't have as many obnoxiously bright colors and I am all about the obnoxiously bright colors). So yes, there was some home décor and layout talk this time around.

Dixxy


	13. Audition

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Twelve: Audition

It was a week or two after Sanji had kissed Nami, and things were going well. Little by little the apartment was being filled with more homey touches and, physically, they were much improved. Nami was back to her weight prior to being kidnapped (Sanji still had about ten pounds to go, but he'd lost more than she had and had a higher metabolism – he didn't eat as much as, say, Luffy, but she'd never noticed that between meals the cook could be easily spotted snacking on something), but not the same shape.

For one, her chest was much, much smaller.

Nami was a little torn than she'd dropped several cup sizes (she'd gone from an I to a DD, according to Ria), but she was discovering that, in a way, she felt a little bit better. When she'd talked to Gala about it, he said that extreme weight loss in women sometimes led to reduced cup sizes, and she'd lost a lot of weight for a woman already in a healthy weight range. The doctor then went on to explain that larger breasted women often had back problems later in life (which, considering her slim waist, he guessed she would be at a higher risk than usual) and did a spit take when she told him her pre-That Man chest size.

_"Do they even make bras in that size?!" _he had asked, looking genuinely alarmed.

_ "It was tough to find them but yeah, they do."_

_ "I'm going to be keeping an eye on your spine just to be safe."_

_ "Not a breast man, Gala?"_

_ "Har, har, very funny. You know what's not funny? A curved spine before you're forty."_

The other part of her body that didn't seem to match was her waist, hips, and thighs – those were a smidge bigger (and accounted for her weight matching her pre-captivity days despite smaller breasts). She was still thin (Ria pegged her at a size 6) but she used to be a size 2. After several looks in the mirror, though, she decided the rearrangement of her weight wasn't so bad – she still looked good and maybe a little healthier, too, the more she thought about Gala's concern over her back.

Best of all, spring was in the air. The last of the snow was gone and flowers were starting to bloom. There were still signs of winter, such as patches of dirt where the grass wasn't back yet and a lack of birds chirping, but she was able to go out with a light jacket instead of a winter coat and mostly bare legs under the skirt of her dress.

It was another one of her days off and Sanji's days on. Working for Mac gave her a steady schedule Monday through Friday, but the nature of the restaurant business gave her roommate different hours and he was usually at the Cider Mug at least one weekend morning a week. Today's errand was restocking their cleaning supplies (there had been an incident with the twins trying to "help" Sanji in the kitchen that ended . . . poorly).

As she was on her way home, she spotted Braeburn coming the other way. Nami waved, giving the blacksmith a smile. He returned the gesture and stopped to greet her, holding a stack of paper in front of him. "Hello, Nami, how are you this afternoon?" he asked, giving her a brief hug and a pat on the back.

"I'm all right – Sanji-kun and I were running low on cleaning supplies after the twins were over."

Braeburn winced. "What happened?"

"Chocolate pudding happened. They 'helped' make it."

The blacksmith laughed. "That'll do it. They mean well . . . most of the time . . . they just don't have the motor skills to back it up quite yet – being little ones and all. In a couple of years I'm sure they'll be much better if they want to help someone in the kitchen." He sighed, looking nostalgic for a moment, before he shook his head and chuckled awkwardly. "Get everything you need to clean up the mess?"

"Oh no, no, the mess is all cleaned up, it just killed our stock," said Nami, holding up her basket.

"Ah, well that's good," said Braeburn.

Nami eyed the paper in Braeburn's hand. "So, what do you have there?" she asked.

The blacksmith paused for a moment, looked at what he was carrying, and realization lit up. "Oh! It's April, so my band and I are holding auditions to find a replacement vocalist. Everyone's a lot less angry than they were so we think we're in a good headspace to start looking for Deltana's replacement. I've been hanging fliers around town advertising it."

Recognition clicked in Nami's brain. "Oh yeah! Jimmy from the Cider Mug and some other guy – what was it, Danny, David, Darren . . . Darryl! It was Darryl! Yeah, they stopped by the mayor's office asking to borrow the town hall for a few days last week and I had them fill out the forms myself. So that's what they were up to, huh?"

"Indeed it was – I just sent Jimmy but, yeah, it makes sense Darryl would be there, too."

Nami remembered the incident well. She'd met Jimmy before from visiting Sanji at work, but Darryl was new. He was a bit stockier than Jimmy, with much darker hair and sharp green eyes. He was the quieter of the two, with Sanji's co-worker doing all of the talking. She cocked her head to one side. "I guess that explains why Jimmy did all of the talking."

Braeburn frowned. "Not exactly," he said. He sat down on a nearby bench and motioned for Nami to sit with him. "The two of them are close – really close. Best friends since they were babies. But, well, Darryl lost both of his parents during the pirate attack eight years ago. It really messed him up, and he doesn't talk much anymore. In all the time I've known him I think I've heard him say maybe ten words."

The young woman lowered her eyes. "Everyone talks about how newcomers to the island bring baggage with them, but a lot of people who've been here a long time have it, too," she said somberly. "It's terrible to lose someone in an attack like that."

Braeburn put his hand on her shoulder. "Voice of experience?" he asked quietly.

Nami nodded. "My mother. If it's okay, I'd rather not get into it right now." Braeburn still looked concerned, but nodded and allowed Nami to change the subject. She pointed at his fliers. "So the fliers are for your band's auditions, right?" Braeburn nodded. "Can I see one?" Braeburn handed Nami one of the fliers. "Friday and Saturday nights at the Cider Mug, huh? Sanji-kun was telling me they used to have live entertainment," she said. She murmured over the flier, looking at the time commitments (practices were at night Monday through Wednesday), pay (a percentage of what the Cider Mug brought in that night plus a base rate), and desired experience (intermediate to advanced preferred, willing to work with the right novice or beginner).

"Would you like to try out?" said Braeburn. "I'm sure you have a lovely voice."

Nami laughed nervously. "Oh, no I don't," she said.

"Oh, come on, a pretty girl like you? The worst that will happen is we say 'no'," said Braeburn. He patted her shoulder. "Jimmy, Darryl and I are holding auditions next week – I know you've got work with Mac but we're doing it in the evening so you should be out." Nami continued to think about it – she didn't think she had a particularly good voice, but maybe she was just being too hard on herself or something.

"All right, what the hell, right?" she said. Braeburn seemed excited, set up a time with her, and thanked her for giving it a shot.

* * *

><p><em>Elsewhere . . .<em>

* * *

><p>Unrelated to the "pudding incident", Sanji had agreed to watch the twins an extra afternoon that week (Ria had practically begged him, explaining there was a wedding coming up and she had to take final measurements and make final adjustments for the bride, groom, and the rest of the bridal party) but, with the warmer weather coming, decided to take the girls out to the park. There was a small playground near the Apple Blossom with some swings, a slide, and monkey bars, and the girls looked overjoyed to be able to play on them.<p>

But after Sundae fell from the monkey bars and would have hit the sand below if Sanji hadn't been paying close enough attention ("Uncle Sanji, you SAVED MY LIFE!"), the girls decided they were done with the playground equipment and wanted to do "something else outside". It was a nice day so Sanji didn't mind being outside, but what to do?

Tag seemed like it had the potential to get too rough for children this young, and there was no way in HELL he was going to agree to Hide and Seek with a pair of toddlers (since if he was the seeker and they were too good at hiding, which he didn't want to chance, Ria would be furious with him), so maybe he could teach them some simple games with songs, like "Ring Around the Rosey". That was easy – hold hands, walk around in the circle, sing the song, and fall to the ground when the sound was over.

"All right, so the first thing we need to do is learn the song – it's pretty easy," said Sanji.

"_Ring around the rosey_

_ Pocket full of posies_

_ Ashes, ashes,_

_ We all fall down._"

The cook smiled. "Now you girls try."

Wendy and Sundae kept singing "ponies" instead of "posies", but after a while Sanji deemed it was close enough and taught them how to fall down without getting hurt. The girls seemed to really enjoy this and made Sanji do the circle and the song with them at least a dozen times before they wanted to try something else.

While Sanji was trying to decide between the Hokey Pokey and Pat-a-Cake, Wendy and Sundae started to tug on his shirt. "Yes, my ladies?" he asked.

"You sing really good," said Wendy.

"No, he sings really _well_," said Sundae.

Sanji laughed. "Oh come on, girls, it's-"

"No, good!"

"It's well, I'm sure!"

"Good!"

"Well!"

"Good!"

"Well!"

"_Good!_"

"_Well!_"

"_Good times two!"_

_ "Well times three!"_

_ "Good times a million!"_

_ "You can't do good times a million, we can't count that high!"_

Although some lesson from some teacher long ago told Sanji that Sundae was the one who was, in the sentence structure sense, correct (although how she'd picked that up he didn't know – she must have overheard it or something – and how he even remembered that he REALLY didn't know), he didn't think the girls were right about him being a good singer. Worse, shrill voices did not do good things to his now sensitive hearing, so the yelling needed to end. "Hey, hey, calm down, girls – it's not a big deal, okay?"

The twins stared at each other for a moment. "We're sorry," they said in unison.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" Sanji said, squatting down to talk to them on their level. His head was starting to throb a little, but he forced a smile for their sake. "You silly geese really think I can sing though?"

"Uh huh, you have a nice voice," said Wendy.

Sundae nodded in agreement (as she evidently saw no flaws in her sister's sentence that time).

"You sure? I don't think I have a good voice," he said.

"No way!" said Wendy.

"It was good," said Sundae.

Wendy pointed at her sister. "I told you it was good!"

"Not the time you said it!"

"Good!"

"Well!"

Sanji groaned, handing them each a baggy of grapes (sweet enough to appease small children, far less sugar and calories to appease their mom, and chewy enough to relieve his poor ears). He held back his smirk when they started to focus on eating the fruit instead of their argument, and he started to round them up for they could go back home to their mom.

* * *

><p><em>A few days later . . .<em>

* * *

><p>Auditions for Braeburn's band were being held in town hall. Nami had found the band waiting inside, smiling warmly and asking her what she'd prepared. She handed Jimmy the sheet music to the song she wanted to sing, and he passed it over to Braeburn. The blacksmith moved towards a piano they'd set up with Darryl and Jimmy sat behind a table with some paper and pencils, presumably to take notes.<p>

"All right – I'm going to give you an intro, so get ready to jump in," said Braeburn. "Ready?"

Nami nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."

As Braeburn began to play the opening bars, Nami waited for the appropriate moment to start singing. As the into ended, she started to sing her heart out, loud and proud and guttural, letting her voice vibrate like she'd heard so many other singers do in the past. Deciding this was a lot of fun, she started to march around a little, spinning on the balls of her feet and waving her arms about in time with the music.

Nami finished the last note of her audition song and turned her focus to Braeburn and the other members of his band. Since Braeburn had told her about the audition, Nami had been practicing off and on and decided that, well, maybe she wasn't so bad after all. Maybe she could be the new front woman for Braeburn's band. She clasped her hands together and smiled. "So, how did I do, guys?"

Braeburn, Jimmy, and Darryl all looked . . . blown away, but not in the good way. Braeburn had developed an odd twitch in one eye, Jimmy's mouth was hanging open and his eyes looked a little glossy, and Darryl looked like he'd just been given very bad news. Nami didn't need them to tell her the audition had gone poorly.

"Uh . . . we'll call you?" Jimmy asked awkwardly.

Nami frowned. "I told Braeburn I wasn't very good." She sighed – it hurt a little to know she hadn't impressed them, but at least they would find someone else, right? "Well, I'm sure you guys have other vocalists to listen to, right?" She went to grab her purse and collect the sheet music from her audition some from Braeburn.

The members of the band looked concerned. "Um . . . you were our only audition," said Jimmy.

Nami raised her eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Well . . . part of it's the time commitment, so a lot of otherwise capable vocalists on the island have families or jobs to worry about," said Braeburn. His gaze darkened. "I also wouldn't be surprised if Deltana messed with some other possible replacements – she was pretty mad when we kicked her out of the band and I wouldn't put it past her."

"Mess with them how?" asked Nami.

"Don't know, but some of the gals on the island I know have talent didn't seem interested. At all," said Jimmy. "Some of them were all, well, what Beebs said about work and family, but some of them couldn't get away from us fast enough. If I had to guess? Maybe blackmail. Nothing serious in the 'hey I know where you hid the bodies' sense but maybe embarrassing photos, threatening to humiliate them – you know, petty bullshit."

Nami stepped over to the table where Darryl and Jimmy were seated as Braeburn sauntered over from the piano. "You mentioned 'gals' – are you looking at male vocalists at all?" she asked, her arms crossed in curiosity. The flier hadn't mentioned anything about so much as a preference for a female singer, but she wondered why Jimmy had singled out the fairer sex. "For that matter, can any of you sing?"

Braeburn scratched his head. "Well, Darryl isn't a man of many words." Darryl rolled his eyes and turned away from the blacksmith in response. "Jimmy's got a great voice, but he's had problems with breathing in the past, so he usually prefers to stay on background vocals if we needed it. My abilities vocally are all right, but they are not strong enough to carry a band – I usually stick to background vocals, too, which works out because Jimmy's voice and my voice resonate very well together."

"And as for preferring a woman?" asked Nami.

"We don't really prefer a man or woman – I'm personally not aware of a talented male vocalist on the island. At least, not one strong enough to support a band," said Jimmy. "I guess it would give us a chance to branch out in other directions – we usually do covers and most of our songs are sung from a woman's perspective. There are a few that can be sung by a man or a woman, but we'd get to learn some new songs."

"Okay, so we can go with a male singer, fine, that doesn't change that we currently don't have one of either sex," said Braeburn. "So we need a new plan to get more auditions because if not we're done. Any ideas? Anyone?"

Nami gingerly raised her hand. "I could help."

Jimmy turned to her inquisitively. "Oh?"

"Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I can't recognize a good voice if I heard one, right?" asked Nami. She smiled. Yeah, this wasn't a bad idea – she liked Braeburn and his friends and helping them find a new singer would be a good idea, right? "I get a lot of people in and out of town hall all day – I can try to talk some people up if you'd like."

Darryl nodded, grinning and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Darryl's right – it's worth a shot," said Braeburn. "Okay, Nami, let us know if you find anyone."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Nami's breast size was actually something Triple C and I had talked about at length during the early phases of development (no pun intended).

Minor note – the birds chirping thing reminded me of an early, early draft of Mass x Acceleration: Chapter One, as that was originally what alerted Nami to her new environment (but seeing as it was in the middle of winter, well, birdies getting taken out was probably for the best).

Sundae's logic was flawless this chapter.

And I forgot to put this in the Author's Notes last chapter but Strawhat-Nakama (and more recently, Funnie) raised an extremely good question that I haven't really addressed too much in the story. Because Tesla cut off all their hair towards the end of _A Force Against Inertia_, they don't have as much hair as they did even pre-time skip. Some of it probably came back before they escaped (like, very little since it would have only been a week or two) but at this point they still don't have a whole lot of hair. Now, in our world, human hair grows at an average rate of six inches a year (or about half an inch a month). Certain things like diet and exercise can affect this, so it's possible that between Sanji's culinary knowledge and Gala's medical expertise it's growing a LITTLE faster than the average rate but I would hesitate to give them anymore than two or three inches. Nami's been utilizing wigs, Sanji I'm not really sure – I'm visualizing him the way he in the series (part one – if he starts styling it as in part two I'll let y'all know in story) so he may have acquired one at some point, especially considering his eyebrow situation, but as far as their actual hair goes it's still very short. This may be addressed in a few chapters with an idea I've thought about doing for a while.

Now Funnie's version of the question also included what else they looked like and whether or not they were using their Devil Fruits. For their abilities I would like to save that for in-story discussion. For appearances (wow, long Author's Notes), Nami's discussed a little more in-depth this chapter (smaller breasts, bigger hips, thighs, and waistline). Sanji's still maybe a bit too thin by this chapter but over the course of the next several he'll be back to the right weight. He likely has the same posture and notably isn't smoking – neither of them are drinking alcohol and caffeine intake is probably limited.

Some of the coming arcs contain the material I am most excited about but includes some of the material I am also the most worried about it, so there's a good chance the speed of the fic could increase a lot (i.e. the material has really snagged my interest) or decrease (i.e. I'm hunting down extra people to look over chapters and passages to make sure things are being handled well).

Dixxy


	14. Discovered

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Thirteen: Discovered

Braeburn had been right – most people really didn't have the time for the band.

Every time someone walked into town hall, Nami innocently asked if anyone was interested in auditioning or if they knew someone who was, and it was a never-ending procession of the word "no". People were too busy with their jobs and their families, and those who weren't busy with those things supported Jimmy's theory about Deltana and blackmail with their sudden change in disposition from friendly and cheerful to uncomfortable and awkward.

But it was only two days later – Thursday was still young, maybe she'd have more luck that day.

"Auntie Nami!"

Nami smiled to see the twins burst through the door of town hall, followed by their tired looking mother. Wendy and Sundae were bouncing up and down at her desk, talking at the same time about what they'd had for breakfast and what their mother was doing there. Nami smiled and nodded, listening as best she could as she produced a pair of lollipops for the girls if they promised to keep it down so she and Mommy could get business stuff done.

The girls agreed this was a good plan.

"Making me deal with a sugah crash this early in the day, sugah?" Ria asked.

"Well, they're quiet. What have you got for me today, Ria?" Nami asked, folding her arms.

"Nothing too exciting, just informing the town I hired a replacement for the B-I-T-C-H who walked out on my shop," said Ria. Nami nodded, looking over the paperwork and grabbing the appropriate stamps. "How are you doing, sugah? We haven't had a chance to talk since you got the new apartment – I still want to get you those curtains, just let me know the color you want."

"No rush – we have some blinds that are doing the practical part for now, we can worry about pretty colors when you're not so swamped," said Nami. She sighed as Ria took a seat on the edge of her desk, keeping one eye on her children and another on her friend. "As for what I'm up to, Braeburn had me audition for his band."

"Oh, how'd it go?" Ria asked.

"I'm not cut out for the music world," Nami said with a nervous laugh. "I can't sing, but I'm okay with that. I told him I couldn't sing but he was all 'no, no, I'm sure you have a lovely voice' and I proved him wrong. But I did volunteer to help them find a new singer to replace that other one." She sighed. "So far I've had no luck. Either people don't have the time for the band or are afraid of something . . . I just can't find a good singer."

"Mmm, I hear you. I'd love to help them out, too, but I have toddlers– not happening."

"Can you sing?" asked Nami.

"Yes, but I'm raising two kids by myself and running my own business - I'm the poster child of that first group you spoke of," said Ria. "If the girls were a little older and the business was a little more self sustainable then maybe I could take the time to do it, but both of those things are several years away – at least the girls getting older part, I wouldn't mind the shop suddenly taking off." She laughed. "But sadly, it's just not the right time for me."

Nami sighed. "Guess we're still on the hunt for a singer then."

During the adult's conversation, Wendy had wandered over with her lollipop, Sundae following behind, both girls having somehow managed to get their lollipops down to the white paper sticks (now each sporting a damp, green end) already. The twins exchanged a look, then turned their eyes to Nami. "What about Uncle Sanji? He can sing really good."

"Wendy! He can sing really _well_," Sundae corrected.

Wendy glared. "Good!"

"Well!" Sundae said back.

"Good!"

"Well!"

"Inside voices!" Ria barked. The twins quieted, but continued arguing in hushed whispers.

Nami pouted. "Where did they get that idea? I don't think Sanji-kun sings."

Ria turned to her daughters in curiosity. "Actually, come to think of it, they picked up a couple of kid's songs I don't remember teaching them a few days ago - they've been singing them in their room. I guess Sanji must have taught them one of the last times he was watching them and, apparently, it struck a chord with them. You sure he doesn't sing?"

Nami shook her head. "No, I'm positive he doesn't like to sing. Back . . . before, our captain was very insistent on finding a musician – even before important jobs like 'cook' and 'doctor'. Sometimes he tried to get everyone involved in some sing-a-longs until we found a musician willing to join, but Sanji-kun was always very reluctant – the only times I ever saw him seem to get into it was in a big crowd, so I've never really heard his voice."

"Interesting," said Ria, looking at her girls in curiosity. "If it was a crowd, he probably figured his voice was drowned out by everyone around him . . . or there was alcohol involved and he didn't care." She closed her eyes. "But he went that much out of his way to avoid being heard? I mean, even if it was just a small group of people – friends, even – just having fun?"

"Yeah, really," said Nami. "Luffy never pushed it too hard – it wasn't important enough to warrant a fight or making people unhappy, and we did eventually find ourselves a musician so the problem is basically solved at this point . . . even if said musician does have a pronounced F-E-T-I-S-H for P-A-N-T-I-E-S."

Ria stared at Nami. "What?"

"Never mind. It'll make sense if you meet him," said Nami.

The seamstress shook her head and turned her attention to the girls, who were now sword fighting with their lollipop sticks. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever. But back to the original point . . . my girls seem pretty convinced Sanji can sing. If you're serious about helping Braeburn, maybe you'll want to see if you can talk him into an audition."

"Okay, you want me to talk Sanji-kun, who has a history of avoiding his singing voice being heard, to audition for a band where he'd be the lead vocalist, based on the word of a pair of toddlers?" Nami asked. Ria nodded with a smile. "Okay, I need to hear logic behind this, because it sounds like you're asking for the impossible."

"You don't spend a lot of time around small children," said Ria. She put a hand on the desk and leaned over. "Let me tell you a secret – kids are the harshest critics you will ever meet. If they don't like something, they won't have any of it. Observe." Ria called over to her girls. "Hey, how do you girls feel about having asparagus with your dinner tonight?"

Wendy and Sundae looked at their mother like Christmas had been cancelled. "NO!"

"All right, no asparagus!" said Ria. "How about spaghetti?"

"YAY, SPAGHETTI!" The girls cheered.

Ria walked over to calm the twins down, looking back at Nami. "See?"

"Those are things you already know they like or don't like," said Nami.

"Fair enough," said Ria. She wandered over to a bookshelf Mac had set up and pulled one off the shelf. "Okay, this is a book on how to conduct a meeting – probably something the girls haven't ever seen before. _Now_ watch and learn." She took a seat on Nami's desk and opened the book. "Girls! Story time!"

"Yay!" The twins scrambled over at the promise of story time, pulling themselves up next to their mother (and nearly shoving several thing on Nami's desk aside in the process). They looked at the pages of the book and immediately turned to their mother with pouts and glares. Now Nami was starting to see the point.

"There aren't any pictures," said Wendy.

"It's all words," said Sundae.

"This is a story about the proper procedure for conducting business meetings," said Ria. She cleared her throat. "Chapter One: Organizing the-"

"BORING!" Wendy proclaimed, jumping off the desk and scurrying over to the bench where she and Sundae had been playing. Her sister was hot on her tail as Ria slid off the desk, closed the book, and replaced it. She referred to where the girls were now playing a clapping game by themselves and turned to Nami with a knowing look.

"So you're saying if the twins liked it . . ." she said.

". . . do you have any other options?"

Nami frowned. She really didn't.

* * *

><p>Nami arrived back at their apartment and let herself in – the kitchen was dark, meaning Sanji hadn't started on dinner yet, but she could hear the shower running in the bathroom, so at least she knew he was home. Not knowing how far into the shower he was, the navigator took a seat on Zoro's loveseat (which was the piece of furniture closest to the bathroom that wouldn't need to be moved around) and listened, wondering if he was the type to sing in the shower.<p>

No such luck. The water was shut off, but she could hear humming. _Hmm. Not entirely unpleasant, but humming is a lot different, isn't it? I think? I really need to talk him into an audition. Somehow. Ugh, if it was the old Sanji I could just, I don't know, flash him my bra or something but I don't know if that'll work now._

Sanji stepped out of the shower whistling, a towel wrapped around his waist and damp blonde hair stuck to the sides of his head. He stepped into the main area of their apartment and saw Nami. "Oh, sorry Nami-san, didn't think you'd be home this early." He kept a grip on his towel, but continued to his prize – a glass of apple juice he'd left on the counter.

Although Sanji was still gaining back lost weight, Nami noticed that a little bit of muscle definition had returned – not where he'd been before, but she'd seen him doing stomach crunches recently and he'd talked about starting an early morning jogging routine. That probably explained his slower weight gain: he was thinking ahead, knowing that he needed to get back into fighting shape.

Literally.

"See something you like?" Sanji turned his body towards her, flexing for her.

Nami blushed and turned away – she hadn't realized she'd been staring. "Oh, sorry." She shook her head, trying to compose herself. Sanji chuckled in response – of course he wasn't offended. "Don't know what came over me. I mean, it's not like I haven't seen you half naked . . . or completely naked . . . before."

"Oh, right," he said. This was true. Although there had been a few . . . incidents . . . while traveling with Luffy, there had been numerous times on That Man's ship where they'd been exposed to each other naked. The first time she'd seen Sanji had been after he'd gotten the Tank for something and had left his clothing to hang dry on one of the benches while he was crouched shaking in one of the corners. The first time he'd seen her naked . . . actually that had technically be in Arabasta, but there had been one night she'd been tossed into the holding cell naked as a punishment – Sanji had given her his shirt and spent the night in his boxer shorts.

The apartment had gone quiet with the mention of their shared trauma. It had been over two months since their escape, but they were still being haunted by the memories and nightmares associated with the year they'd lost. It took a few minutes for them to regain their composure and break the silence.

Sanji sat on the arm of the couch with his juice. "So . . . what's going on?"

"Funny you should ask . . ." said Nami. "So, I told you I auditioned for Braeburn's band, right?"

"Yeah – you said you didn't get in," said Sanji.

"Well, I volunteered to try and find someone else and Ria came into town hall today."

Sanji eyed her suspiciously. "And?"

"She thinks you should try."

The cook nearly choked on the apple juice. "Excuse me?"

Nami stood up, crossing her arms and walking towards him. "The twins think you can sing well and they're . . . picky. Really picky. Ria thinks you might have a shot . . . and not just because I'm the only audition they've had and we both know that went over . . . poorly. Because if the girls liked you that probably means something. "

"Nami-san, I can't sing," said Sanji. "The girls were probably just being nice or something."

"You spend more time with them then I do – what do they do to things they don't like?"

Sanji considered this. "Based on our first trip to the book store and how they treated any book without pictures . . . they toss them aside without a second thought." He sighed. "But those are things, objects – I'm a person. A book isn't going to get mad at a couple of toddlers – Mr. Pinova might but the book won't. The book is nothing but dead trees. And even living trees wouldn't be capable of getting angry with the girls, either."

"Someone had to write the book they're tossing aside. Someone has to cook the food they don't like. Sanji-kun, they've been singing the songs you taught them for days – if you need to liken what happened to a book, those songs are 'the book' and they haven't tossed them aside yet." Nami moved past him into the kitchen to get a glass of water. "Why are you so convinced you can't sing anyways?"

"I was told I sucked pretty flat out by a girl who was studying music," said Sanji, following her into the kitchen. Nami stuck a straw in her water and turned to him for further explanation. "Obviously she knew way more about it than I did so her opinion meant something. It's outside of my realm of expertise and that was her whole life – music and singing and stuff."

"What was the problem?" asked Nami.

Sanji looked a little nervous, looking around the kitchen before returning his gaze to her. "She said my voice was all over the place and kept changing pitch really rapidly – said I sounded like a dying cat or something," he responded. "I got kind of embarrassed and just decided not to sing like that again – I mean, with a group if it's just messing around is fine but I mean, I couldn't let Zoro hear me and make fun of me over it."

"How far along was she in her studies and what was her focus?" asked Nami.

"Violin was her focus, but she studied voice on the side. And I think she'd been studying for maybe a year or two?" Sanji seemed to be thinking hard. "I don't remember, it was a while back – at least six or seven years ago. She was in a lot, favored salmon, and Zeff let her play for the other customers a few times."

Something clicked, and Nami did some quick math. "So how old were you?"

Sanji grabbed an apple from the counter. ". . . fourteen? Maybe fifteen?"

Nami gestured for him to follow her, leading the two of them into the living room area. _Bingo. _"Sanji-kun, when you were going through puberty, about when did your voice change?" She sat down and looked at him. "I know it's probably not your favorite point in time to remember, but humor me for a moment."

"When I was fourteen . . ." Realization lit up on Sanji's face. "Oh. I see your point."

Nami crossed her legs in the seat. "See?"

Sanji sat down on the couch. "Just because I was going through puberty and I'm a dumbass for not realizing that sooner doesn't mean I'm a good singer. Even before that happened, if I sang too much I'd go into a coughing fit . . ." Sanji paused again and pressed a hand to his face. "That was probably from the cigarettes, wasn't it?"

"And I know it's annoying for you sometimes, but I bet your extra sensitive hearing might make you more aware of things like pitch," said Nami. "Sanji-kun, they don't have any other options and this means a lot to them. Besides, getting up on stage in front of a crowd is probably good for your confidence, and we both know that's been lacking as of late."

The cook still seemed a little nervous, looking at his lap like he'd find an answer there. Nami put a hand on his shoulder, and Sanji looked up to smile a little. "Well . . . worst that would happen is they'd tell me no, right?" he asked. Nami nodded, but Sanji still seemed nervous. "I still don't know about this, Nami-san."

"I think it would be good for you," she said. "You told me you're unhappy with the way you've handled the other men in your life so hanging out with Braeburn and his buddies might help you there. If you want to get along better with Zoro and the other Straw Hats, you need to learn how to get along with other guys first." Nami started to rub his shoulders.

"What if I am good? Won't Luffy be mad he's had someone who could sing since East Blue?"

"Even if he did get mad, and I really don't think he would, just make him a pot roast and he'll remember the reason he wanted you in his crew. And that's assuming it even got that far, which I doubt it would – this is LUFFY we're talking about, and besides, everyone is going to be more focused on us being ALIVE than anything else," she said. Nami rested her head on his shoulder. "It's a paying job, too – the money would bring you closer to that chef's knife set you want so bad."

"Really!?" Sanji asked excitedly. "And the wooden cutting board? Oh, and the spice grinder!" He lit up. "Wait, we'd need to get pots and soil to grow our own spices first. Oh! Cruets! Or an apple corer – they must have those here, right? A waffle iron! A sandwich press? No, maybe some pie dishes . . . it's Apple Island, I should be making apple pies. And apple crisp. And apple dumplings. And-"

Nami laughed. "Anything you want."

"Okay. I'll go to the audition."

* * *

><p>Nami had never heard Sanji sing before – at least, not as a soloist. If he practiced before the audition it wasn't around her (and it was entirely possible he didn't, considering it was less than twenty-four hours since she'd convinced him to try out and part of that time had been spent sleeping and working), so the audition was the first time she was actually hearing if the twins were right.<p>

Sanji's voice was smooth and even, demonstrating an impressive range and very little difficulty navigating from one end to the other. He kept his eyes closed the whole time, probably to keep his nerves down, and she could see beads of sweat dripping down his brow. He didn't force any vibration or march around like she had, focused on the task at hand.

Braeburn, Darryl, and Jimmy were exchanging looks and nods – they were impressed.

By the time he finished, Sanji looked even more nervous than before. He swallowed, waiting for their evaluation. They started to clap politely, and Sanji smiled a little. "You were just a little, teeny bit pitchy at the start of the second verse, but that was very good for someone who's never had any training," said Jimmy.

"Really?" Sanji asked in disbelief. "That good?"

Braeburn nodded. "You have a good range of octaves, too – you don't have the range of, say, an opera singer but definitely one or two more than the average dude. That's very good – it broadens the number of songs we can try without having to readjust what key we're playing in." He got up from the piano, looking to Jimmy and Darryl. The two nodded, and Braeburn held out his hand. "If you want the position, it's yours."

Sanji stared at Braeburn for several moments, eyes wide and his jaw slack. Nami bit her bottom lip – even with her encouragement, she guessed that he didn't think he'd be good enough to join and was trying to process it all. She covered her lips with her mouth, her stomach tying itself in knots. Was he going to be okay? Maybe this wasn't a good idea. She shuffled from foot to foot.

The cook finally composed himself and took Braeburn's hand. "Okay. I accept."

* * *

><p>Author's Note<p>

Things are going well (writing wise) on my end. I mean hey, you guys might be getting two updates a month or more for a while (*knock on wood*).

Sanji's vocal talent isn't meant to be TEH BEST THING EVAR OMG, but good enough that it attracted the attention of a somewhat desperate band in need of a lead vocalist and is likely around or a little better than whatever you consider the middle of the road (for one of my more musically inclined friends, he firmly believes Phil Collins is at the exact center of all musical talent and I sort of agree with him). His Zoan fruit and the sensitive hearing that comes with it are likely a bigger factor than he realizes.

Seeing that they spent an entire year on Tesla's ship, I don't think it's too far-fetched to add in narration or flashbacks about other incidents that may have happened in addition to whatever happened in _A Force Against Inertia_.

Last but not least, I want to remind everyone this is an "M" rated story and although it's largely been a K, K+ so far the M content is around the corner. If this bothers you or you're too young to be reading M content anyways, you have been warned.

-Dixxy


	15. Turnover

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Fourteen: Turnover

* * *

><p><em>Four years earlier . . .<em>

_There had been a girl on the Baratie who kept smiling and winking at him. _

_ Sanji was a little flustered by her and smiled shyly back. She was pretty and becoming something of a regular. Patty was annoyed because she only seemed to order soda or a small salad and in his mind she was taking up valuable table space that could have gone to a customer who'd either gorge himself on appetizers and desserts or fork over the big dough for something expensive._

_ Sanji didn't care – a customer was a customer . . . and this one made him feel light headed._

_ He waited on her a few times and tried to flirt with her – she'd giggle and half ignore him, leaving him confused and wondering if he'd done something wrong. But she kept coming back, pretending that she wasn't eyeing him. The only thing he'd gathered was that she went by Tanya, but a name was only so much to go on. Sanji was confused and frustrated – did she like him or not?_

_ Zeff advised him to ignore her. Sanji advised him to shut the fuck up._

_ One day, Tanya got up after paying for her meal but didn't head to the exit. She waited until her eyes met his, grinned, and gestured for him to follow her down the hall. Intrigued and young and thinking he was in love, Sanji found a way to disappear and followed her, grinning like a fool and thinking he must have finally said or done something right._

* * *

><p>Sanji's eyes snapped open and he sat up, confused by his surroundings. It took him a moment for the dream to evaporate completely, and he found his grip back on reality. He was in his apartment on Apple Island, it was three o'clock in the morning, and Nami was sleeping soundly next to him. He leaned forward, rubbing his temples. What could have brought that on?<p>

Although it certainly counted as a dream, it was more like a memory. Those things had actually happened to him – there really had been a Tanya, he and Zeff really had argued about her, and she really had enticed him down the hallway one day during his shift. He tried not to think about her anymore if he could manage it, and had been mostly successful for a while now.

Sanji slid back down, thinking that he must have seen or heard or smelled something that reminded him of Tanya, even after all this time had passed. He'd read about it somewhere before, this theory that a person's subconscious picks up on things without the person ever realizing it. Maybe someone was wearing the same perfume she liked or had a similar laugh or something, and only a small part of him had noticed.

He put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Tanya was a source of painful memories for him. Unlike the first girl who'd kissed him or the girl who'd told him he couldn't sing (which, apparently, wasn't true), he really thought he was in love with her. Oh, he certainly liked the other two girls well enough, but there was nothing really there. Tanya, he'd thought, meant something.

That was why she was the one he'd lost his virginity to.

Sanji swallowed and tried to think about something, anything else to get her off his mind. Even four years later, after he'd had many more partners and lovers . . . no, he needed to think about anything else. But it was the wee hours of the morning and he was fighting the urge to go back to sleep – he needed to distract himself first, or risk going back to that dream.

He turned his head and saw Nami. None of his stirrings had awoken her – that was good, she needed her rest. She looked so much better – healthier, happier – than she had in a long time. But there was still so far they both needed to go. With Gala's blessing, they'd recently started getting up extra early (ugh, another reason he needed to hurry up and go back to sleep) to jog around the island – it was time to start thinking about getting back into (literal) fighting shape, but for the moment this was a good start. They'd build up their endurance a little bit at a time, then start actual training again.

_Which means we should probably start using our Devil Fruit abilities._ Sanji groaned a little. For the most part, no one on the island knew they were ability users and they'd agreed that it should stay that way. By some small miracle their fruits hadn't acted up since Tesla's visit, and as far as anyone aside from Gala and Mac knew, they were just normal people who'd ended up in a bad situation and needed a place to lay low for a while. For the moment, they were content to not use their powers.

But that wouldn't work forever.

Without That Man's medications and restraints, Sanji was starting to notice instincts and urges to use his powers that, with all of the trauma and mess surrounding what they'd been going through before, he was either unaware of or simply wasn't having. If he needed something outside of his normal reach, he was discovering urges to use his Paramecia skill. Sometimes during their morning jogs, he had the urge to switch forms because his half-and-half form was probably much faster than his regular human body.

Nami, as he understood it, was undergoing similar feelings. Thankfully she wasn't succumbing to the violent tendencies that some carnivorous Zoan ability users had (and he'd avoided them as well – didn't foxes eat meat, too?), but he'd seen her walk through a closed door once or twice. She'd always stop and look horrified, like she'd done something wrong, and then not want to talk for a few minutes. Once, he'd caught her playing catch with herself on the couch, and the ball in questions was a ball of yarn (suggesting that perhaps tigers weren't so different from their domesticated cousins).

Furthermore, the plan was to, eventually, rejoin Luffy and the others. It would be wildly unfair of them to avoid using their abilities whenever the crew got in trouble. Their captain had lost two swimmers – there needed to be something to make up for that, be it Sanji using one Marine to beat other Marines with or Nami clawing her way through enemy pirate crews.

But even with instincts and urges kicking it, it was still a little unsettling to use those powers – any of them – because it was all a constant reminder of what had happened to them. Some days he could still taste the Devil Fruit That Man's goons had practically forced down his throat, and nothing he did could get the taste off his tongue but time and another distraction. It made him feel cold, and he realized that his powers actually scared him a little.

It was something they were going to need to learn to move past.

Nami shifted a little in her sleep, muttering that Luffy and Usopp needed to stop acting like idiots because "that" was not a toy. Sanji had no idea what "that" was but knowing the two she was dreaming about, it really could have been anything. He smiled a little – at least one of them wasn't having a hard time with dreaming and sleeping.

Sanji turned onto his side and slowly slid next to her to put an arm around her. Nami didn't notice in the least, whining to Robin that she was surrounded by morons. He closed his eyes – he wondered how long it would be before she started chiding him for getting into another fight with Zoro or beating Brook for trying to steal panties from the women's room (again). Those were the kinds of dreams he wished he had.

The cook yawned and smiled – thoughts of the crew they both missed lulled him back to peaceful slumber.

* * *

><p>The following afternoon, once he'd dropped off Wendy and Sundae from an afternoon of babysitting them (which had been an easy one because Mr. Pinova had the next volume of Sapphire Witch adventures in stock), Sanji started the long walk to Braeburn's forge for his first practice as a member of what was currently just "the band".<p>

At first, Sanji assumed they would be using the old name they'd had with the previous singer, but Braeburn had told him that, after some discussion, they thought a new name would be a good way to give them a fresh start and further distance themselves from her. It made Sanji curious – just how bad was this woman, anyways? He had yet to cross paths with Deltana so he really didn't know.

The snow was completely gone now that April had arrived and brought spring weather with it. The fields on either side of the dirt path leading to the forge were dotted with wildflowers, and Sanji toyed with picking a bouqet for Nami on his way back – even if there wasn't anything between them it was still a nice gesture and might bring a little more cheer to their apartment.

Sanji hadn't been to the forge since that snowy night he'd gotten lost, but before long he came upon it and meandered his way to the front door of the attached residence. He knocked, waited, and soon heard footsteps headed his way. He stepped back when Braeburn opened the door, the blacksmith looking a little tired but happy to see him.

"You okay?" asked Sanji.

"Big order came in this afternoon – I've got a wrought iron fence to make. Yippee."

Sanji laughed. "Can't contain your excitement?"

"For making over fifty yards of fencing in two weeks all by myself?"

The cook winced. "I take it that's a lot for that amount of time?"

Braeburn sighed and patted him on the shoulder. "I'll figure something out, or put my foot down on the timing because yeah, fifty yards in two weeks is brutal. But don't worry about that – Darryl and Jimmy are setting up in the practice room." Sanji nodded – he could hear something that sort of sounded like a guitar being played, but the notes seemed a little off. Once he arrived in the practice room, he saw Darryl was fiddling with the knobs at the end of his guitar and Jimmy was gathering the pieces of his drum kit.

"Okay, let's get setup finished – Sanji's here and we should do some warm ups."

Darryl nodded and smiled while Jimmy smacked the symbols on his kit.

* * *

><p>Practice ended a few hours later, and Sanji's head was swimming with new information. There was a lot more to this than he thought, and he was feeling a little overwhelmed during the walk back to his apartment. <em>At least I know Nami-san will be awake when I get back – I might need to talk to her about all this<em>.

First, he learned that he was going to need to learn to read sheet music – a thought that had never crossed his mind. Braeburn was giving him an hour's worth of lessons every night, but promised that for their first several performances they would stick to songs he already knew to make the process a little easier. But where he stood that night? He might as well try to read ponyglyphs.

Second, even though the band acknowledged that he had some natural talent, he still needed training. Part of it was to make him sound better, but Jimmy warned that trying to hit difficult notes without proper training could actually hurt him. Thankfully, voice training was going easier than music reading – he could match the notes Braeburn played for him easily and he suspected that maybe his hearing was helping him out a lot.

But the third part . . .

Jimmy and Darryl demonstrated the point well enough, but the mention of "make up" nearly sent him running. Sanji did NOT wear makeup – if he thought that Zoro would make fun of him for having a bad singing voice, there was no way in hell he'd be able to get away with prancing around on stage in eye shadow and lipstick.

Braeburn explained that stage make up served a different purpose than what girls wore to go out on a date. Darryl, wearing no makeup, stood at the far end of the practice room while Jimmy shone some bright lights on him. When asked how well he could make out the details of the guitarist's face, Sanji admitted he couldn't – he could tell who it was just fine, but his face was all one color, much lighter than his normal complexion, and he sort of looked like a ghost or a store mannequin.

They repeated the experiment about fifteen minutes later, this time after Darryl had put on makeup, and Sanji immediately saw the point. For one, he could make out the details of the guitarist's face much better, and he wasn't completely washed out by the lights. More importantly, it really didn't look like he was wearing anything.

Until Darryl walked over. It was thick, garish, and possibly weighed two pounds. Braeburn said it was okay to laugh, and Sanji couldn't help but crack a smile. Darryl pulled him into a hug and patted his back. Jimmy offered the idea that they could stick some sunglasses on their newest member to lessen the amount they'd need to apply, and that was something Sanji couldn't turn down.

Most of their first practice together, however, was very casual, picking out songs everyone could follow along with and running through them. Braeburn had arranged everyone in an inward-facing circle so they could see each other, and put a microphone stand in front of Sanji so he could practice figuring out what to do with one. That was the only part he was even remotely comfortable with – from his perspective they sounded good and it was actually kind of fun.

But the books Braeburn leant him on everything he was supposed to learn felt heavy. Not because either volume was thick (quite the opposite – both were rather slim), but because the contents within were a bit intimidating. Maybe he could get Nami to help him study – most of his education had been hands on in the kitchen, but all of Nami's skills in navigation and cartography had been self-taught from books.

Sanji reached the edge of town. Things were a little different in the evening, with many of the shops closed but most of the eating establishments still open. He saw groups of friends walking around and laughing together, and a few couples holding hands and chatting quietly so no one else could hear. The street lamps gave everything a golden glow, making the walk much more pleasant.

A familiar barking sound could be heard not too far off, and Sanji soon saw Cobbler barreling towards him. "Hey, boy!" he called out. The dog barked in excitement, getting up on his hind legs to greet Sanji was several sloppy licks, causing the cook to drop his books. "Hey, get down! Cobbler, knock it off!"

Someone whistled, and Cobbler whined as he got down and turned to Mac, who was limping over on his cane. "Hello, Sanji – it's been a while since I've seen you around," the mayor greeted. Cobbler returned to his master's side while Sanji gathered up the dropped books. "I'm sorry about Cobbler – you know how he gets."

"It's not a problem, Mac," he said, straightening himself up. "How are you?"

"I'm fine – Cobbler and I just went to see my mother for dinner after work. And you?"

"Just coming back from Braeburn's," he said. "Nami convinced me to audition for his band."

Mac gave him an amused smile. "And you got in?"

"Yeah – just coming home from my first practice with the band." He held out the books. "I have some natural talent but no training, so I have some studying to do – I need to learn to read music and control my voice better." He laughed nervously and decided to change the subject. "How's your mom doing? Did everything go well?"

Mac nodded. "Indeed. She's been out of commission for a couple of months now but should be up and around soon enough." Sanji nodded – he and Nami had yet to meet the mayor's mother, but had heard a little about her. They hadn't met her yet (mostly due to her illness and their recovery preventing any sort of practical meeting), but it was good to hear she was doing well. "She's interested in meeting the two of you sometime. She knows . . . some of your story and wants to make sure you're properly fattening up."

"Nami's at her old weight and I'm only about five pounds away now, but if she wants to feed us I won't say no – maybe we can swap recipes," Sanji suggested. Mac nodded and Cobbler started to sniff Sanji's shoes. The cook knelt down to pat the dog more properly and was greeted with a bark and another lick. "Hey!"

"So when is your big debut performance?" Mac asked with a smile.

"Not until May – because it's technically a 'new' band the guys think we need time before a big public performance," said Sanji. "Maybe something small with just a few people we're close to for practice, but we're not exactly ready for the Cider Mug yet." He gave Cobbler one final scratch and straightened himself up. "I'm not even sure the guys want to use the old band name anymore."

The mayor rolled his eyes. "I suppose that makes sense – things with their older singer ended poorly, as I'm sure you've been made aware by now, and if they want to distance themselves from her, I can't say I blame them. Deltana has a very lovely voice, but unfortunately she's got a rather ugly attitude towards life," said Mac.

"I heard she puked on you."

"And as long as you don't vomit on me we should remain on good terms," Mac said with a smile.

"I'll do my best," said Sanji. "Anyways, I should get going. It was nice seeing you, though." He gave the mayor a friendly hug good bye and promised to try and visit more often. Mac gave him a pat on the back and wished him well on his way, Cobbler trying to follow Sanji back to the apartment. The dog whimpered as the distance between he and Sanji grew – he frowned a bit, but it couldn't be helped.

* * *

><p>Nami examined the books Braeburn had given him. "These are kid's books," she said.<p>

"Wait, seriously? He gave me CHILDREN'S books?" Sanji asked. He hadn't looked at the books in depth, but soon realized she was right. There were brightly colored pictures of animals and clowns pointing to the different scales and notes, and the cook felt a little offended. "Oh come on! I know I'm a beginner but this is ridiculous!"

"You read kid's books all the time."

"To CHILDREN," said Sanji. He sighed. "Braeburn . . . why . . ."

"Maybe it's all the island has," said Nami, closing the book on reading music notation and patting Sanji's shoulder. The two of them were sitting in the living room over tea and cookies when the discovery had been made. "Remember, trade here is iffy. Or, if there are books for teaching adults music, maybe they aren't very well written."

Sanji grunted. "Maybe."

"Or it's possible that he gave you the kid's book on purpose," said Nami. "Ria told me that whenever someone asks for recommendations on books teaching people how to sew or knit or crochet, she tells them to get a kid's version if possible." The navigator crossed her legs and smiled. "The adult books don't have as many diagrams and don't go into as much detail – kid's books will have more detailed diagrams and go over every step as simply as possible."

"What the hell is crochet?" asked Sanji.

"It's like knitting, but with a tool about as long as a spoon with a little hook on the end."

Sanji grumbled, but seemed to be warming up to Nami's logic behind the children's books. Considering how close Ria and Braeburn were (although the exact nature of their relationship still was unclear), it might make sense that they'd share some philosophies. "So he isn't doing this because he thinks I'm stupid?"

"Probably not, no," said Nami. "And if he does I'll punch him."

"Braeburn's a lot bigger than you, Nami-san – I think he's even bigger than Moss head."

Nami laughed. "Calm down and do your homework."

Sanji stuck his tongue out at her. "Yes, Mommy."

* * *

><p>The second day of practice went better. Sanji could understand the meaning of the lines and spaces on the staff and had a vague understanding of what musical notes indicated. However, it wasn't enough for him to be able to learn a song without hearing the musical accompaniment. ". . . well, small steps," said Braeburn.<p>

"Yes, _baby_ steps," Sanji said with a hint of sarcasm.

Braeburn laughed. "Trust me – go with the kiddy books."

"The adult books are wastelands of lifeless despair and hopelessness," said Jimmy.

Darryl started to sigh in exasperation at Jimmy, but then nodded in agreement.

"Now, before we get into going over the songs we did yesterday, I thought we might want to have a discussion about the band name," said Braeburn, shuffling everyone from the practice room to his living room, where the seating was more comfortable. "Now, we COULD keep the old name, 'Core', but I think it'll be better to come up with something new."

"The Jimmy Grieves Project!"

"We turned it down the first time and we're turning it down again," Braeburn said shortly.

The drummer pouted. "Aww. I like that name."

"No. Darryl, any suggestions?" The guitarist retreated to the practice room. "Oh, right, paper. Take your time!" Darryl gave Braeburn a thumbs up as he disappeared down the hall. "Jimmy, any suggestions that don't boost your ego?" Jimmy continued to pout at Braeburn. "Okay, we'll give you a minute to get over yourself."

"PFFFFTTT!"

"Very mature. Sanji?"

Sanji shrugged. "I really don't know."

Jimmy laughed. "And you said my suggestion sucked."

"THAT WASN'T A SUGGESTION!"

Darryl returned with a pad of paper. He showed off his suggestion: BJDS.

Braeburn, Jimmy, and Sanji all stared blankly before Darryl shrugged and flipped to a clean page.

"Anybody hungry?" asked Jimmy. He stomach growled immediately after. "I'm hungry."

Darryl nodded, rubbing his stomach and looking forlornly towards the kitchen.

Sanji laughed and stood. "I brought some snacks this time. I made some apple turnovers – they just need to be warmed up and they'll be ready to eat." Jimmy and Darryl looked at Sanji in adoration as the cook started to move towards the kitchen. "I even brought some ice cream so we can have it a la mode. Braeburn, you in?"

Braeburn took on a thoughtful expression. "Turnover."

"Hmm?" asked Jimmy. "Yes. Turnovers. Food. Delicious."

The blacksmith shook his head, but his expression was lighting up. "No, no, I mean Turnover as a name for the band," said Braeburn. The other three paused. "Our band changed. We have a new vocalist. And a turnover is a change between hands . . . that could work as a band name. Because we turned over vocals from Deltana to Sanji."

"I thought a turnover was a delicious baked good," said Jimmy.

Sanji raised an eyebrow at the name. _Does everything on this island need to be an apple reference?_ He sighed and turned, bumping into a tall floor lamp Braeburn owned. He backed away as he watched the lampshade shake and rattle from the movement, grabbing at the base to keep it from knocking over. He made sure it was steady before rejoining his band mates.

Darryl showed his approval for the name with a drawing of a smiley face.

Braeburn turned to Jimmy and Sanji. "How do you guys feel?"

Jimmy sighed. "All right, I suppose it's almost as good as the Jimmy Grieves Project."

Sanji thought about it. "Sure."

"Well, anything is better than 'I Really Don't Know'."

"I SAID THAT WASN'T A SUGGESTION!"

And with that, the band was renamed Turnover.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

So in high school I used to work in the knitting/yarn department of a local craft store and I took Ria's philosophy to heart (I believe this was something I picked up from one of the teachers who taught classes there) and pushed the children's "how to" books over the adult books every time because, well, seriously, compare an adult how-to book with one meant to younger readers. For BASIC skills you're much, MUCH better off getting a children's book, then moving onto adult books once you understand the basics.

"BJDs" is a common shorthand for "ball jointed dolls", which are very expensive, very realistic dolls popular amongst the anime con crowd (and I'm sure the non-anime con crowd as well). My best friend of over a decade is really into them right now – personally I'm not into it but I figured out that the first names of the members of the band do spell out that shorthand.

And yes I did make a TV Tropes references. You jelly? You jelly.

Dixxy


	16. When I Think About You

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Fifteen: When I Think About You

April came to a close, and May brought with it the start of even warmer weather and blossoms all over the island. From their balcony, Sanji and Nami could see the apple blossoms in the orchards and both were looking forward to visiting that part of the island when the fruit was in season, and they re-routed their morning jog through the orchards to better see them one morning. Nami missed being able to eat her tangerines straight off the tree and although these would be no proper substitute, she found herself longing for the fall.

But in the meantime, Gala had cleared them for "light physical training".

"Light physical training" included their morning jogs and other simple exercises, like stomach crunches and weight training (but only if the weights were under 20 lbs for Nami, 40 lbs for Sanji), and running through some of the lower-intensity moves in Red Leg Karate (of which no contact was allowed – not even with a punching bag).

Sanji had given Nami the opportunity to learn some of the basics, and at first Nami didn't understand why. "Well, if we ever want to use our Devil Fruits to defend the rest of the crew, you probably want to know how to fight in your tiger forms," Sanji had pointed out. "The phasing fruit is going to be amazing defensively, but you're used to fighting with a weapon, not your body. You need to know how to use your body as a weapon – there's no reason you couldn't use your ClimaTact with your Devil Fruit, but there will be advantages to knowing what to do without it."

Nami had agreed with his logic, and the two found a fairly isolated clearing not too far from their usual running path, and a few dents and slices in the trees suggested that Ria and Braeburn had utilized the spot at some point in the past. They agreed to train for an hour or two on the weekends (if Sanji's work schedule permitted it).

This was their second day of training.

"Follow my lead, Nami-san," said Sanji. Nami nodded and tried to spread her feet as far as Sanji had, but soon heard a clucking tongue noise. "Not that far. You're shorter than me – you need to adjust for your own build. Look at my stance for a second." Nami moved out of the stance and crossed her arms to watch.

"Don't you usually start from a casual standing position?" asked Nami.

"Not for this stuff – what you've thinking of is more advanced and probably not on Gala's 'okay' list yet," said Sanji. "I'm not in the shape I was back before – I can't take the abuse I used to take without getting REALLY badly hurt. If Gala realized I was teaching you moves like Party Table he'd be pretty angry and I don't think we want to piss off the guy trying to make us better."

"Okay, okay, so how do I adjust for my height?"

"Shoulders – see where my feet are compared to my shoulders?" said Sanji. He drew a line in the air from his right shoulder to his right foot, and Nami saw that they lined up. She nodded, and Sanji gave her a brief explanation. "My shoulders are wider than yours, so my stance is going to be a little bigger. But they should still be pointed the same way mine are. Now you try."

Nami focused on matching her feet to her shoulders, and Sanji nodded in approval. "Very good. Your left foot needs to be a little bit turned in though – there you go." Sanji moved beside her and slipped his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. Nami frowned, not seeing any pockets on her pants. "Unless you want to fight EXACTLY like me you don't need to worry about your hands. If you want to learn about upper body defense and offense you'll want them out, but that's up to you."

"Okay."

"All right, now turn your body so you're facing the direction your feet are pointed in. That means your right leg is your lead leg and the one you'll be kicking with. The left leg is your support leg, and you need to have a good sense of balance there – it's the center of your strength, but also a weak point – especially the back of the knee."

"Because your leg will bend and you'll be thrown off balance," said Nami.

"Right – I was at a point where I didn't need to worry about that, but for right now both of us do." Sanji closed his eyes and took a deep, concentrated breath. "Now, we're going to lift our lead leg, bend our knees, and bring our thighs as close to our chest as we can. Keep the sole of your foot facing out with your heel sticking out – that's what you'd want to strike with. And we're going to hold that position for ten seconds."

"What? Wouldn't the other guys hit us before ten seconds was up?" asked Nami.

"This is a balance exercise, not an actual kick," said Sanji. "Balance is extremely important."

Nami pouted, but followed along as Sanji started the move. She lasted about two seconds before he left knee buckled and she started to wobble in place, flailing her arms out to try and keep from falling. She started to fall backwards, but Sanji was behind her, one arm behind her shoulders and the other over her waist. "Sorry!"

Sanji shook his head and smiled, a genuine grin with a hint of encouragement on his lips. It all had a sort of strange aura to it, likely because of how the sunlight was entering the clearing. His face was covered in shadows, but the sincerity and kindness was still shining through. "It's okay – everyone loses their balance the first few times."

Nami stuck her tongue out at him. "Easy for you to say."

Sanji chuckled as he got her back to her feet. "Maybe so, but you need to have good balance for almost any martial art, not just mine – I'm sure Luffy or Chopper or hell, even Robin could tell you that. You probably have it, or at least you had it at some point, but you were probably using your staff or one of the ClimaTacts as a counterweight, so it changed up your center of gravity. But that's okay, we'll work on it."

* * *

><p>Two hours later, the pair called it quits. "I suck at this," Nami said.<p>

"Nah, you made good progress – remember, I had years and years of practice. Getting as good as I was would take you years and years of practice, too," said Sanji. He walked over to where they kept a bag of water canteens and snacks and started to rummage through it. "And that's fine – this is just a starting point for you as you figure out what will work best for you. You might find that you'd better inclined to use your upper body, but I can't help you there."

"Yeah, you can't," said Nami. "Can you toss me one of the canteens?"

Sanji gave tossed one of the canteens to her and started to peel off his shirt, which had collected a fair amount of sweat. Nami was opening the canteens, but couldn't take her eyes off his back. About a week ago he'd regained the last of his lost weight and more of and more of his old muscle definition was starting to come through. In particular, the groves and lines on his back were rippling with his movements as he got the shirt over his head.

_Huh._

"Want a snack, too?" Sanji asked, bending down to go through the back again.

"Um, no thanks," said Nami, closing her eyes and throwing back a long drink of water. It was a little warm from sitting in the bag, but still refreshing. After swallowing, gasping, and wiping the corners of her mouth she watched Sanji pull out a clean shirt and pull it on. She frowned a little before taking another sip of water.

"Did you pack a dry shirt or anything?" Sanji asked.

"No, I didn't think of it – I'm going to shower when we get back anyways," said Nami. She crossed her arms. "Besides, my bra is probably pretty soaked, too, and I'd need to change that as well – and you're not getting yourself a free show, Sanji-kun." Sanji grinned, closing up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"All right, fair enough. I can keep my back turned, though – just remember that."

"Ha," said Nami, and the two started the walk back to their apartment, walking mostly in silence. But all during the walk, Nami kept going over how their practice had played out. The stances and the kicks and the warm ups were one thing, but the smile on Sanji's face after he caught her and the way the light caught his hair, or the way his muscles moved when he was changing his shirt . . .

_What is WRONG with me!?_

* * *

><p>Long, hot showers had become Nami's "substitute" for baths, since bathing in too much water made her feel tired and weak. Showers, though still involving a lot of water, didn't seem to affect her (at least, not as much) and she discovered that lathering up and simply sitting under the stream was a good alternative to the baths she was conflicted over whether or not she missed.<p>

Nami grabbed a towel and some pajamas (a matching tank top and shorts) before heading into the bathroom. Sanji was stretched out on the couch with some sheet music (probably the songs they were going to perform for their first few performances) and another study book, only half paying attention as he asked her to let him know when she was done so he could rinse off, too.

The bathroom in their apartment had the usual sink and toilet, but a feature they hadn't taken into consideration was the shower stall, and luckily for them, it was perfect for their needs. The shower was just that, a shower, with no bathtub whatsoever. It was still the length of a tub so there was plenty of room to move around while in there (hence Nami's development of the "substitute bath"), but the lack of a basin to catch the water meant the floor dipped down a little and instead of a shower curtain, the unit was closed off by a fogged glass wall and sliding door.

Nami stripped out of the day's clothing, grabbed an extra scented bottle of body wash, and slid open the foggy glass door of their shower stall. Resting the soap on the floor, she turned on the water, waited for it to warm up, and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She took her seat on the floor, squirted some of the wash into her open palm, and started to lather up and ponder what was going on.  
>Still no sign of Yasopp returning with Luffy and the others, although Shanks had sent word about a week ago that Ace had returned to Whitebeard. Nami supposed that, well, Luffy's brother was very loyal to his captain and there was probably only so long he could stay away from his own crew. Other than that, this didn't tell her anything about the whereabouts or condition of the other Straw Hats.<p>

Nami started to massage the soap into her shoulders and sighed – they'd been a little tight.

Sanji's band was now two weeks away from its debut at the Cider Mug. The old posters advertising Core were now long gone, advertising the debut of the Turnover. There was a little chatter about it around town, some of which Nami picked up at the town hall, mostly curiosity surrounding the new lead singer and, to a lesser extent, how the old lead singer would respond.

She started to work the back of her neck and froze – although it was fading, she could still feel the bumps and lines of the mark That Man had left on her. Nami slowly took her hand away and focused on her breathing for a few moments, trying to let the memory pass before going back to rubbing her shoulders and focusing on her friend.

Nami wasn't quite sure how Sanji was taking everything with the band. Part of it was because he was focusing hard on learning to read music (a skill that, once he got it down, wouldn't require as much intensive study) between everything else he had going on, but part of it was also to keep his anxiety down – the training was probably good for that, too. He didn't talk about it much, but when he did talk about the performance Nami could sense he was understandably nervous and she did her best to calm him down.

Nerves aside, though, Nami thought Sanji was doing pretty well for himself. He was getting along great with his band mates (especially Braeburn – he and the blacksmith were hanging out rather frequently now), he was smiling more, and it seemed like he was starting to get some of his confidence back, even with his mild stage fight taken into consideration.

She smiled as she started washing her sides. The scent of apple blossoms had filled the bathroom, and Sanji would probably half-whine about it before the scent of his own minty, "manlier" smell took over. Nami giggled – Sanji didn't exactly dislike the smell of flowers, he just didn't like to smell like them himself.

Actually, Nami didn't mind the scent of his soap, either. It was similar to the stuff he used on the Thousand Sunny (albeit something made exclusively on Apple Island, considering the trade situation). He was the only male on the crew who washed regularly and kept on top of his laundry. It made him a little more pleasant to be around, even with cigarette smoke permeating all of his clothes.

Of course none of Sanji's clothing smelled like that anymore. Gala was very straight with Sanji about not picking up the habit again, even though she'd seen him look at a smoker on the island a little forlornly more than once. It had been over a year without a cigarette for him, but apparently some habits died harder than others, and there was probably something about them he missed (although, truth be told, Nami didn't miss the smell at all – their apartment smelled like apple trees in bloom and that was kind of awesome).

That probably made sleeping at night more bearable, too – they were usually huddled together, even as the warmer weather started to hit, and there was something comforting about the smell of the minty soap and the laundry detergent they'd adopted, and another scent beyond all of that that was just, well, Sanji. It helped her sleep peacefully and calmed her whenever nightmares struck.

Nami added another dollop of body wash to her palm and started washing her thighs.

Really, his presence made her feel much safer. It was comforting to wake up in the morning and see him still sleeping or rummaging about in their room for clothes to wear to work, his hair sticking out in several directions but a very wide awake smile on his face (because Sanji was a morning person who made other morning people look like grumps). She loved coming home to him waving at her from the kitchen with ten things going on at once and letting her know what was on that night's menu. She was starting to really love the sound of his singing voice, too, even if most of what she heard was just warm-ups and scales, and even if they were screw ups and he swore before starting over.

He was getting into shape, too, and it really, really was showing. Sanji wasn't ripped like Zoro or some of the other pirates and Marines they'd encountered, but he was still very toned and had well-defined abs and pecs, and his arms weren't too bad either (either from all the stirring and chopping he did in the kitchen or all the handstands he did when fighting). They were probably solid to the touch by now, or would be soon, and-

Nami realized her heart was beating a little faster than usual and she paused – although Gala insisted her heart was fine now, she was still sensitive to what it was doing sometimes and this caught her a little off guard. This was the shower, her substitute bath, this was supposed to be relaxing! _What the hell could have caused that?_

That was when Nami realized where her hand was.

And what it had been doing.

Panicked, Nami was on her feet and shrieking, sending water and soap suds flying in all directions. She heard a banging on the bathroom door followed by it swinging open, and she froze in place. Shit. She'd nearly forgotten Sanji was home. "Nami-san! Nami-san are you all right!? What happened?"

Sanji was standing outside of the fogged glass door, and Nami reached over to the handle to keep it close. "Sorry! Something took me by surprise, that's all! I'm okay, I'm fine, just let me rinse off and you can take the shower, okay?" If she thought her heart was beating fast before, now it was about ready to leap out of her chest.

"Are you sure?" Sanji's voice had calmed, but he was still worried.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, don't worry about."

Sanji stood there, his barely visible form still holding concern. "I'm going to boil up some water and leave some chamomile tea out for you. While I'm in there I want you to have a cup, okay?" Nami nodded (even knowing there was no way Sanji could tell from where she stood), and watched as the blurry colors that were him exited the bathroom.

"You sure you're okay?" he called from behind the closed door.

Nami swallowed. "Yeah. I'll be done in a minute."

* * *

><p>After getting rinsing off, drying off, and then making the fastest sprint to their bedroom Nami thought possible to get dressed as quickly as she could, she found herself sitting over a cup of chamomile tea (which Sanji had prepared just the way she liked it – with a little bit of milk and honey), staring at it while her hands shook.<p>

Of course he knew how she liked her tea. _Of course._

It wasn't like Nami had never done that before – she was a virgin, not an oblivious virgin who knew nothing of the way things worked between a man and a woman, or a man and a man, or a woman and woman. She'd experimented a little before, and Nojiko had insisted that it was completely normal and natural to have certain urges and then . . . act on them. She had a small library of "those kinds of novels" hidden in a shoe box in a small trunk surrounded by shoe boxes containing shoes under her bed on the Thousand Sunny, and one she'd acquired since coming to the island at the back of her sock drawer in a box labeled "TAMPONS" to make sure Sanji never found out about it.

(Actually, Sanji was well aware of the book – she'd left it out one afternoon and he'd read the first five chapters over a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. He gave up after finding the characters to be bland and uninteresting, and Nami assumed she had recovered the literature before her roommate discovered it.)

This time was different. This wasn't about the adventures of Sir "I Don't Buy Shirts That Fit Properly Because I'm Beautiful" and Lady "My Boobs Are Busting Out of This Bodice Like Twin Waterfalls". Those were pretend. This hadn't been. This was about Sanji, _Sanji_, of all people! This was her best friend, her roommate, her . . .

Nami pressed a hand to her forehead and took a sip of tea. She remembered telling him that he was her most important treasure. She remember how she felt the first time she'd been alone after the night Sanji kissed her. She remembered staring like an idiot at him when she was trying to convince him to try out for Braeburn's band. And then paired with this afternoon and what had happened in the shower . . .

_Son of a . . ._

Nami didn't think her feelings for Sanji were very platonic anymore.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Remember when I said M rated material was around the corner?

I have no idea if the balance exercise was a real one or not, but there's likely some stuff from high school and college in there. Don't try it at home, though – I can't promise the safety of anyone who tries it.

The title of the chapter comes from the chorus line of a certain song by a band called the Divinyls. I'm sure at least some of you are familiar with it and know what the subject matter is. Here's a hint: it has a lot to do with what Nami was doing in the shower.

Dixxy


	17. Maybe This Time

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Sixteen: Maybe This Time

Only one week remained until Turnover had its big debut.

Sanji found himself with a free afternoon – his shift at the restaurant was over, he wasn't watching the twins, and there would be no practice with the band. Did he study? No, he needed a break from study – he's mastered the F and G clefs and was working his way through the C clefs, and it was all starting to run together in his head. Did he find a place to spar in the woods? No, there was only so much he could do without a partner.

He opted to take a walk around the island.

The marketplace near town hall was largely a place where food was sold, excluding seafood – the fish market was near the docks, and truth be told, neither he nor Nami was terribly comfortable going there yet. Walking or running along the beach was one thing – the water had to be at least up to their knees before they started to feel the effects of their Devil Fruits. But every creak they felt or heard when walking on the dock was a reminder than they were directly over deep water, and no matter how sturdy the wood was, it was a little nerve-wracking to take the trip there.

Sanji walked through the marketplace, looking around and trying to piece together a meal for dinner that night. There was a lot of good produce, and the butcher had produced some fine cuts of beef. He wasn't feeling particularly inspired by anything he saw, but decided that was okay – he had plenty of time to figure it out, and there were other things he wanted to do that afternoon.

About a block away from the end of the marketplace was a bazaar that dealt in the trade of items not made on the island and really depended on what the last merchant ships from Shanks' other islands had brought. Sometimes there was exotic food, mostly dried meats and confectionaries that traveled well but also the occasional fresh fruit, but mostly it was a variety of trinkets, tools, clothes, and other items available for whatever the merchant was willing to sell it for.

Sanji was making the dubious decision to try and find a specific item – a pair of sunglasses.

Granted, they were well into spring now and summer was just around the corner so that kind of item showing up would make sense, but Sanji looking for something to wear for the performance next week. After passing by one stall selling hats and another that had procured paintbrushes and paints, there was a vendor selling belts and accessories.

Sanji spotted his prize immediately, and his eyes lit up. It was just like his favorite pair back on the Thousand Sunny – yellow lenses, thick frames. They looked about the same size and had the Dosoki Panda label written on the left temple. _Perfect_. Now he just needed to be smart about making the purchase so he didn't get taken for a ride and-

"See something you like, sir?"

Sanji internally swore – it was never a good idea to show that much excitement and interest in an object when dealing with these vendors. They could smell desperation and usually charged a much higher rate than what they would have under any other circumstance. Unluckily for the merchant, however, Sanji wasn't going to get taken this time.

Sanji's best friend and roommate was Nami, and she'd taught him a few things.

Including what to do in this situation.

Sanji quickly shifted his to the item closest to the sunglasses – a "gold-plated", cheaply made pocket watch. "Can you tell me how much this watch is?" he asked as innocently as he could. For Nami, this was usually accompanied by a girlish pout and wide eyes. For Sanji, this meant acting like a country boy visiting the city for the first time. "It's just so . . . gosh-darn pretty."

The vendor smirked. Sanji kept his dopey smile. _Gotcha._

"Well now, that's a fine piece right there – very, very valuable, quite an impressive thing to own," said the vendor. Sanji listened, feigning his best fake expression as the vendor sold him a bullshit story about how it was the preferred brand amongst high-ranking Marines and was made of the finest material available (even though Sanji could tell it was brass covered in a cheap gold knock-off). "For this I can't let her go for any less than, oh, one hundred thousand berries."

Sanji's eyes widened. _Yikes! This guy's really trying to hustle me. _"Golly, sir, I don't think I got that much!" he said. He frowned and looked around the table and started pointing at objects he thought he knew the value of and let the vendor start rattling off prices. Little by little, the prices were going down, and Sanji was even able to trip the vendor up on a leather wallet.

"What about this?" Sanji picked up the sunglasses with his thumb and index finger.

"Two thousand berries – take it or leave it," the vendor said in annoyance.

Sanji pretended to think about it before reaching for his wallet. "I guess so." Once the money was in the vendor's hand, Sanji relaxed, grinned, and put the glasses on. They were a little wobbly, but nothing that couldn't be fixed easily enough. "Thank you, sir – these are mighty swell!" He waved cheerfully at the vendor as he walked away.

Nami was going to be so proud of him.

* * *

><p>After not finding anything else to do in town for the moment, he decided to leave the town and explore some other parts of the island. There wasn't much to speak of in terms of "civilization" aside from a select few buildings, like Mac's home and Braeburn's forge, but the natural scenery was nice to take in as well.<p>

Sanji reached the edge of the island – the beach. He soon realized it was the spot where they'd originally washed up on the island. Braeburn and Mac had described the spot to them sometime after Shanks' last visit to the island, but he didn't think he or Nami had been here since that cold morning Cobbler found them. The lifeboat was long gone (it had probably been used as firewood for the bonfire they made the night Shanks left, he thought), and the sea had erased any trace of their entrance to the island. Sanji shoved his sunglasses up on his forehead, slipped off his shoes and took a seat on the beach, digging his toes into the sand as he watched the sea.

No ships – just the horizon line dividing the sea from the sky.

Sanji brought his knees to his chest, folded his arms, and rested his chin against them. By now, rumors that he and Nami had died must have spread pretty far. He wondered if those rumors had reached the other Straw Hats, or any of their other friends around the Grand Line or even back in the East Blue. _I'm sorry, Luffy, everyone – I don't know how else we could have done it. _

It wasn't that life on Apple Island was terrible – it was really good. They had friends and jobs and it was nice not having to worry about Marines or bounty hunters being out for their necks and the prices on their heads. But it wasn't the same as traveling the seas and going on adventures with Luffy and the others and chasing their dreams. Being away from the sea and the dangers upon it was what they needed, but it wasn't necessarily what they wanted.

Apple Island couldn't give them a map of the world or the location of All Blue.

Sanji dragged his finger through the sand. At least he still had Nami. She was all he had left of his old life, even if so much about both of them had changed. They'd gotten so damn comfortable around each other – it was nothing for one of them to be in the shower and the other announcing they needed to pee and they'd be out in just a second. They usually brushed their teeth huddled over the bathroom sink together, and that was to say nothing of their sleeping arrangement.

He started to draw a picture of her in the sand – for all his talents in the kitchen or with a microphone (something he was still trying to wrap his head around), he couldn't draw very well. It was a crude drawing of Nami, smiling at him with big brown rocks for eyes and a pebble crafted smile. He drew her hair the way it was before they'd been kidnapped (although Nami's hair was getting close to dipping below her ears – he himself had enough to styling it close to the way he had before), lingering on that one piece that hung just a little longer than the rest.

Sanji sighed and flopped back onto the sand. He craned his neck to look at the sand art he'd created. He laughed a little – it really was pretty bad. Nami was better two dimensional art than he was (though not as good as Usopp – her drawings were largely technical in their execution, the sniper could convey emotions and mood) but he still found himself amused by the effort. He sat up and looked at it again, running his hand along the line of her cheek.

It made him feel happy.

* * *

><p>After a trip to the marketplace for some food shopping, Sanji got home about an hour before Nami was set to get out of work and started on dinner. He hadn't done much of anything special since they'd arrived on the island, and somewhere between the beach and the town the desire to go all out had struck him. The only thing he couldn't get fancy with was the drinks, because Gala was still cautious about letting them have alcohol. Sanji settled on sparkling apple juice instead – it would at least look like a sparkling white wine.<p>

While preparing the meal, he remembered fantasizing about making dinner for the two of them. Sanji had always figured it was supposed to be some kind of romantic setting, with candles and flowers and trying to coax her into bed with sweet words. Dinner with just the two of them had become the status quo, and going to bed was just a matter of getting sleep.

This was really the first time he'd tried to show off to her when it was just the two of them.

Not that he'd been lacking in previous meals – not at all. But it was a lot of simpler recipes with simple foods that, though delicious and nutritious for their dietary needs, weren't all that exciting, but tonight he was making duck with orange sauce (a ship had come in a few days ago with oranges and he'd managed to grab a few before they sold out), sautéed vegetables, and chocolate mousse for dessert.

Sanji frowned at the duck in the oven – the smell of the oranges made him sad he couldn't give her tangerines. So far, none of the ships that had come to Apple Island from Shanks' other islands had brought any tangerines, and neither of them dared to get close to the docks when such a ship was in town. Just because newspapers and wanted posters were a rarity on Apple Island didn't mean they weren't commonplace on other islands, and who knew what the captains and crews of those ships picked up. Getting recognized could spell disaster for them and blow their whole plan. The oranges he'd found in the marketplace would have to do.

He wondered why he'd gotten the sudden urge to do this. It wasn't a special anniversary he could think of, and there wasn't anything big that had happened for either of them in a while (although Sanji knew that the performance at the Cider Mug was slowly starting to creep up on him). He stared at the sauté for an answer.

The carrots were the color of her hair.

Sanji paused. Was he starting to get feelings for her again?

Was that even a good idea? Sanji flipped the vegetables and tried to think this out. On the one hand, he and Nami had a very strong friendship, and throwing in "something more" could destroy the balance they had – that was something neither of them for afford to risk (their sleep alone depended on it, never mind the rest of their emotional well-beings). He wasn't even sure if Nami would be on board with the idea of trying to have that kind of relationship, especially with how things used to be between them.

On the other hand, the way things were was different. They had a strong friendship, something he hadn't had with any of the ladies he'd been with before. Most of them had been one night stands, and those who weren't he'd only known a day or two before starting very frenzied and passionate but pitifully short relationships with before things fell apart. There wasn't a lot of talking or understanding – just a lot of sex and making out.

If he and Nami were to try the whole dating thing, they already knew how to talk to each other. They confided almost everything to one another and she was, far and away, the person he was closest to. For crying out loud they were sharing a bed, even if it was for a practical, not-sexy times purpose, and, well, it sort of eliminated the possibility of either of them dating anyone else (not that this was a reason to start down that path – they were still working on the presumption that this was a temporary problem and, someday, they would be able to fall asleep apart).

And then there WAS the whole . . . sleeping together thing. That would have a whole different context if they were dating. Of course he wouldn't pressure her into anything more intimate than what they already had (really, cuddling could be nice, too), but there was a lot to think about there, too. Nami was a virgin, he was experienced. Was she the wait for marriage type? Would this be long term? Would they need to have a talk about condoms and birth control, even if they were both sterile and clean?

Sanji took a deep breath. He was getting himself WAY too far ahead. He hadn't even asked her out yet – if they did date and, as a result, have sex, that probably wouldn't happen right away. Go out to dinner a few times, go do some dancing or something, and when the time was right then they'd make love and it would be something special for both of them.

But that wasn't in the cards yet – one step at a time. He hadn't even asked her out yet!

Sanji's mind continued to wander. What about the other Straw Hats? He didn't think Luffy would give a rat's ass if two of his crewmembers had a romance, but if they could build something serious, would that cause a problem when they came back to the crew? Would the others treat them differently? Would they have to keep it a secret?

What about Zeff and Nojiko – Zeff didn't have a very high opinion of "that ship stealing hussy" and he had a feeling Nojiko wasn't very impressed with him, either. Of course with the way things were going it was going to be a REALLY long time before they saw anyone from back home in the East Blue, but he had a feeling that might not go over so well right away.

Sanji reached behind his head to scratch and felt his pinky brush up against the scars on the back of his neck, and he paused. In the colder weather, he'd been covering it up with turtlenecks. In the warmer weather, he'd been wearing light but unisex or otherwise masculine scarves around his neck. At the Cider Mug, it was all bandanas to keep himself and everyone else around him safe. To cook tonight, he'd taken the one he'd been wearing off, so nothing was hiding it from the world.

In an instant, he stopped caring what other people thought about what he did or didn't do with his life. For an entire year, That Man had controlled everything that happened to his body and her body. He'd forced them to eat Devil Fruits and made them freaks among freaks. He'd run experiments on them, hurt them, for months and months. Pills. Injections. Shock therapy. It had made them addicts, it had taken away their names and made them shivering husks of their former selves.

Now that they had gotten away from him and gotten themselves on track with recovery, what they did with their bodies was all up to them – even Gala could only give them suggestions on what to do and not do. Nothing was stopping Sanji from buying a carton of cigarettes and smoking the whole thing in an afternoon, or drinking a whole bottle of wine in one sitting. He'd gotten control of his life back when they'd gotten away from that terrible monster of a man.

Sanji took a deep breath, leaning against the kitchen counter. This was HIS life. HIS body. If he and Nami decided to have a relationship, there was no one who was going to tell them "no". He didn't care what anyone else told them they could or couldn't do – he was tired of being controlled. Whatever they decided was THEIR choice and THEIRS alone.

Provided, of course, that Nami wanted the same thing. There was no guarantee she felt the same way he was feeling now. She could have been perfectly content with their friendship the way it stood – as a close friendship, nothing more. And it was a close friendship. He'd never had a friend like her that he could just talk to and share things with. It wasn't like anything he had with anyone else – not the other chefs on the Baraite, not Zeff, not the other Straw Hats, not the other guys in Turnover.

She was . . . different.

_Maybe this means . . ._

Sanji heard the door to their apartment open – Nami was home.

"Hi Sanji-kun," she greeted. "Smells great!"

Sanji smiled. _I'll worry about it later. _"Thanks!"

As Nami walked into the kitchen and started poking around to see what he was up to (and compliment him on his new sunglasses – and this was BEFORE he told her about how he'd acquired them), Sanji wondered if he should say anything. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. He wasn't sure what to say, or how to say it, or even if it was the right time to say anything. For the moment, he was content to tell her what he was making, and saying that it was just for the hell of it.

* * *

><p>Over the next several days, Sanji tried to find the right moment, the right time, to just find the courage to say something to her. But Nami seemed to be a little fidgety about something (she'd been very fidgety since that bizarre incident in the shower, actually) and it just never seemed like a good idea to broach the subject.<p>

Sanji always found a reason to put it off. She was too distracted by something. She looked tired. HE was tired (although that was very true on days he was watching Wendy and Sundae – those two probably had the energy to power Water 7 for a week). They had a visitor. He had to study. She was wrapped up with something at work. They had to focus on training.

Now it was the night before Turnover's big debut, and Braeburn had strongly suggested he put himself on voice rest. Nami told him she'd make dinner than night and prepared something specifically geared towards soothing throats and voice boxes. Sanji was touched – that was so sweet of her, and another reason that he had to find a way to just talk to her.

But of course tonight was the one night he actually couldn't.

Nami fell asleep before he did, and Sanji was content to lie there and hold her. It was just comforting to know she was there, and it eased a lot of his worries about the following day. Just like she was here now, she was going to be somewhere in the audience at the restaurant tomorrow, cheering him on, and he knew no matter what happened it was somehow all going to be okay.

Maybe tomorrow was the day then. Maybe after the stress of that first performance was over and done with, no matter how good or bad it went, maybe he'd find the courage to ask her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee afterwards. Maybe she'd understand he was asking her out on a date and wanted to see if they could try being more than just friends.

Maybe if he was lucky, she'd say yes.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Well, what have we got here? I'm pretty sure "Maybe This Time" is from a song lyric, too (wasn't it in the first season of _Glee?_) although Sanji's realization is a bit tamer than Nami's was. A lot.

Next chapter starts the wrapping up of this arc, but things may not go the way you guys might expect. Stay tuned.

Dixxy


	18. Debut

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Seventeen: Debut

_Please read the author's notes at the end of this chapter – there's something I'd like to share with you all and it's rather important. Thank you. _

_-Dixxy_

_EDIT: Made some boo-boos that needed fixing. D'oh!  
><em>

It was the day of Turnover's big debut performance, and Nami had hated leaving Sanji.

Normally, Sanji cooked most of their meals – not out of laziness on Nami's part, simply because he enjoyed cooking and was the better of the two. But this morning she had made them scrambled eggs (as well as dinner the previous night) because she wasn't entirely sure the cook had slept the night before. Sanji was a bit of a twitchy mess and was nearly hyperventilating during the morning meal.

Thankfully Haralson had given Sanji the day off, probably sensing that his part timer was nervous about the performance and was going to need some time to sort thing out. It was also probably helpful considering Sanji was on voice rest and, if he was speaking at all, wasn't saying much. Nami wished she could tell him to lie down and take a nap, but between their sleep problems and how wound up Sanji was, she didn't think that would work.

So she came up with another plan. She led Sanji (now paranoid that he was suddenly going to lose his voice right before the show started – this was actually an improvement over being paranoid he was going to forget to put on pants) to the loveseat, sat him down, and plopped down their book of Imaki Imahara poems. Sanji looked at her with huge, worried eyes and Nami put her hands on his shoulders.

"Sanji-kun, I need you to calm down and relax. Listen to me, okay? I want you to take a deep breath and start reading," said Nami. Sanji nodded, swallowing. "Front cover to back cover. Just focus on the poems, relax, and don't stop reading until you finish the whole collection. I'll call our Den Den Mushi around two just to make sure you don't get too lost in the book and you have time to get ready and down to the Cider Mug, okay?"

Sanji nodded, albeit a bit quicker than he usually would have. Nami sighed – she wished she could stay, but she was already running late. She settled for giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I won't see you before you need to head to the Cider Mug, but I'll be in the audience cheering you on, okay?" She gave him a hug, which after a moment's hesitation he returned. "You're going to do great. I know it."

"Thanks, Nami-san," he said. He opened the book in his lap. "Have a good day."

Nami smiled as she started to head for the door. "You too – and no panic attacks!"

* * *

><p>Today, Nami was only able to take a half-hour lunch – otherwise she would have stopped back at their apartment to check on Sanji to make sure he wasn't holed up somewhere in the fetal position. Worse, she hadn't packed a lunch that morning, and needed to find a quick meal – the marketplace was only a block away from town hall, and there was a takoyaki vendor close to the edge.<p>

Nami moved as quickly as she could – she was hungry, and even though he was halfway across the island Sanji's nerves were starting to rub off on her. She took a deep breath and tried to focus. _Calm down, go get takoyaki, get back to work. Calm down, go get takoyaki, get back to work. Calm down, go get takoya-_

CRASH!

"Hey, watch we're you're going!"

Nami had been too focused on calming down and unceremoniously crashed into someone, knocking them both to the ground. "I'm sorry, I've got my mind on some other things," she said, getting to her feet and brushing herself off – she had skinned her knee and would have to wait until she got back to town hall to take care of it. She extended her hand to the other person. "Do you need help getting up?"

The other person was a brunette with long, thick, wavy hair and sharp green eyes. She was wearing a purple dress with a short skirt (and although Nami didn't mean to look, lacy pink underwear). She was wearing purple heels, a gold-colored ball chain necklace, and a matching bracelet. She extended her hand for Nami to take it. "Thanks," she said dryly as she struggled to her feet.

"I'm really sorry – my roommate's a little stressed out this morning and I think he's starting to rub off on me," Nami said, trying to lighten the situation. The other woman shrugged and started dusting herself off as well. Although Nami didn't see any signs that the other woman was injured, she couldn't be sure. She was wearing heels, after all, and those could cause some nasty sprains. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine – I've got other things on my mind today, too," she said. She looked Nami up and down and crossed her arms, a coldly curious look on her face. "I don't think I know you – are you one of the recent newcomers?" Nami nodded. "Don't get a lot of folks like us on the island anymore. How long have you been on Shanks' little hideaway?"

"I've only been here since February," said Nami. She held out her hand. "My name is Nami."

The other woman gave her a smug grin. "Deltana."

Nami's eyes widened. _So this is the woman Sanji's replacing._ She could understand why Braeburn, Jimmy, and Darryl had originally gone with her. Deltana was pretty, sure, but she carried herself with a lot of confidence that probably translated really well on stage. Still, as they stood their shaking hands, Nami couldn't help but notice the smell of bourbon on the other woman's breath. Maybe Sanji's stress rubbing off on her wasn't the culprit behind this encounter after all.

"So you've heard of me," said Deltana. She folded her arms and gave her a condescending look. "So, you're the mayor's new errand girl. Cute. Going on a coffee run, are we? You're going to want to be more careful on the way back – you probably don't want to get a coffee stain on that shirt you borrowed from your grandmother."

Nami forced a smile back. _She's kind of a bitch._ "I'm on my lunch break, actually."

"Don't look at me like that – I know you're close with the other newcomer, and I know he's the one Braeburn and his little band of idiots used to replace me. Didn't know the two of you were living together, though, that's mighty interesting," said Deltana, giving her a condescending nod. "Doesn't matter – once I'm allowed to start performing again I'll crush them all."

Nami could feel her blood starting to boil. "We'll see about that – you probably haven't heard Sanji-kun's voice yet, and he's really good, so shut up before you decide who's going to crush who!" she shot back. Deltana's eyebrows raised at Nami's comeback, and for a moment she felt herself back off. She'd probably gone too far, but this other woman had made her so mad so quickly. "Look. I know you're probably mad you're out of the band, but look on the bright side – if Haralson is letting you perform again, you've probably got the stage all to yourself. It's a win-win for everyone, really. Just let them do their thing and I'm sure they'll let you do yours."

"Hmm," she said. "Whatever. Just watch where you're going next time, okay?" Deltana gave Nami a pat on the head and blew a kiss as she walked away, leaving Nami feeling more than a little miffed with the encounter. But when her stomach started to rumble a little bit, she remembered that she didn't have time for that and needed to get lunch before she was late getting back to work.

* * *

><p>Night had fallen over Apple Island, and Turnover was set to take the stage in thirty minutes.<p>

The backstage area, or at least what serviced as one, was only about the size of the break room and just big enough for the four of them to move around comfortably. They'd gotten there about two hours ago for last minute preparation, including giving Sanji his first formal stage makeup lessons with the giant mirror hanging on the wall.

Jimmy and Darren were checking the instruments for weak strings and skins, and Sanji was looking out at the floor of the Cider Mug in slight horror. It was dimly lit – not as dim as it would be once they started to perform, but it was an eerie sea of heads and eyes and wordless sounding murmurs that was making his skin crawl. Worse, he didn't see Nami anywhere, but there was still plenty of time before they were supposed to start and plenty of open seats.

Sanji knew it was just the townspeople making conversation amongst themselves before the show started and most of it was probably just small talk about how their days had gone – at least, that's what he hoped – but he wondered how many were talking about him. It would have made sense, after all – he was the big change with the band and the deciding factor over whether or not Turnover was going to be a success.

If this had been more than a year earlier and they were Marines or something, this would have been easy – take 'em out, run away, and live to pirate another day. No, he had to entertain these people without the use of food. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all – for crying out loud the ones who "discovered" him for Braeburn was a pair of toddlers! _Toddlers!_

Sanji felt Braeburn's hands on his shoulders. "You okay?" he asked.

"I think my stomach ran off for parts unknown," he replied.

Braeburn chuckled. "A little bit of nerves is okay. Just do it like we did back at my place and don't worry about the audience; they are the only difference between our practice studio and here. That's it." He spun Sanji around, hugged him, and gave him a pat on the back. "You're going to do awesome."

"You sure?"

"Positive. Think we have time for one last warm up before Darryl does a sound check?"

Sanji nodded. "Yeah. Every little bit helps, right?"

"And it might get you calmed down a bit," said Braeburn. He encouraged Sanji with a few waves of his hand to focus on his breathing. "We'll pick something nice and easy, and I want you to focus as hard as you can on that – every little detail of the exercise. Okay?" Sanji nodded, and they started on the warm up.

* * *

><p>Nami arrived at the Cider Mug alone, but excited. She'd rushed home from town hall to get cleaned up and changed, trying to find the right outfit to wear. She settled on a white sundress with a flared skirt, then added a little color with a blue and orange silk scarf around her neck and orange strappy heels. After looking over her wigs, and then looking at herself in the mirror, she decided to go without – her hair was almost as long as it had been when she was taken away from the other Straw Hats, and the scarf covered the scar on the back of her neck.<p>

It was a big night for her roommate, but this might be a big night for her, too. Nami had decided that tonight she was going to say something to Sanji and admit her feelings had started to change. After the performance she was supposed to meet him and the other members of the band by the hostess stand. Once the two of them were alone, she was going to do it.

Now, here she was. She just needed to find a seat. She spied a small, empty table near the front and quickly shuffled towards it before anyone else could take it. She took her seat victoriously and looked around to see if she could spot anyone she knew. Ria, she knew, couldn't make it – she wasn't able to get a baby-sitter and had to watch the kids. Mac had started to show signs of not feeling well towards the end of the day and had gone home early. She saw Gala in the very back, having a few drinks with some of the other people in town.

Nami then saw something that surprised her – Deltana.

Careful not to let the other woman know she was being watched, Nami opened her menu but kept an eye on the other woman. She must have been there to check out her competition, but she couldn't help but wonder if she was going to try and heckle Sanji and the rest of Turnover off stage. Nami closed her eyes and hoped that wouldn't be the case – that was the last thing her friend needed.

One of the waiters came over and asked her what she wanted – Nami ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri ("So . . . strawberries and ice in a blender?" "If you please.") and hoped that the former lead singer of Core didn't try to bring trouble for Turnover. She tried to keep an eye on her, but when the lights over the audience went out she couldn't see the other woman anymore.

* * *

><p>Once the band was on stage, there was a brief round of applause, some wolf-whistling near the kitchen, and the lights were dimmed – except for those on stage, those were impossibly bright. Everyone could see them. Sanji stood in front of the microphone, unsure of what to do – Darryl hadn't started playing any opening notes, so what was he-<p>

Braeburn had slid next to him and taken the microphone from the stand. "Gooooood evening ladies and gentlemen!" he bellowed, eliciting more excitement from the small crowd. Sanji stepped away, a little relieved that Braeburn had the reigns for the moment. "Thank you so much for coming out for us tonight, we love you all –"

_No we don't, I don't even know half of these people!_

"- as we debut our brand new band, Turnover!" More applause and hooting from the crowd. "Let me introduce you really quickly to our lineup. Now of course the handsome bastard on bass tonight is me, and you can call me Marcus Braeburn." Mild laughter from the crowd at the mediocre joke. Braeburn turned his body to gesture to the drum kit. "On drums we have the over talented and unappreciated Jimmy Grieves!" Jimmy performed a short, show-offish fill that was well received. "On guitar we have Darryl Gravenstein." The crowd got a little louder as Darryl played a progression. "And last but certainly not least let's give a warm welcome to our new lead vocalist, Sanji!"

Sanji forced a smile as the crowd got even louder than before. That's all for me? He waved a little before Braeburn put the microphone in his hand, announced their first song, and went to pick up his bass. Little by little the crowd quieted down, and Darryl started to play the opening notes of their first song.

Sanji was terrified, and then he saw a familiar face smiling at him from the crowd.

It was Nami. She gave him a thumbs up and mouthed at him to break a leg.

And suddenly he wasn't scared anymore.

"_Whenever it rains/_

_ And I look in your eyes/_

_ I see the starlight/_

_ It lights up the skies/_

_ Wherever I go/_

_ And whatever I'll be/_

_ You're like my lighthouse/_

_ You're guiding me"_

Braeburn and Jimmy came in on background vocals as the chorus began.

"_I want to see what the world has waiting for us/_

_Can't you see?/_

_If we don't give up it'll all come right down/_

_To you and me/_

_But for now/_

_Let's not stop/_

_Chasing dreams"_

As they sang the chorus line, Sanji couldn't take his eyes off Nami. She was smiling and quietly clapping for him, and in that instant they were the only ones in that restaurant. This was a song from him to her, and he realized that's why he'd picked it. Of course he was going to pick a song for Nami – what other kind of song could he pick? Even the other song choices . . . it was all her.

"_If we_ _start at the sun/_

_ Slow it down by the sea/_

_ We can go where we want/_

_ Straight on to paradise/_

_ You're never alone/_

_ I'll take your hand/_

_ And we'll get there someday/_

_ Our promised land"_

Maybe there could be something there for the two of them after all . . .

"_I want to see what the world has waiting for us/_

_Can't you see?/_

_If we don't give up it'll all come right down/_

_To you and me/_

_But for now/_

_Let's not stop/_

_Chasing dreams"_

Sanji had barely noticed that they'd come to the end of the song as the last note left his lips and the final strum of Darryl's guitar faded away. He held his breath for a moment, and was pleasantly surprised when the room erupted into cheers and applause. His eyes brightened and his mouth widened into a grin as he bowed.

Nami looked like maybe she was the happiest of them all.

_Maybe tonight I should talk to her and see if maybe . . . maybe . . ._

The applaused had died down, and Sanji realized he needed to say something. "Thank you, thank you!" he said into the microphone. He looked briefly back at Braeburn, who gave him a thumbs up. Sanji turned back to the audience, beaming. "For our next song, how about something everyone can get up and dance to?"

No one in the audience disagreed with the suggestion.

* * *

><p><em>All right, Sanji-kun! <em> Nami was happy and relieved all at the same time. Sanji had done it. As they headed into the second song (which was indeed something with a faster pace and Nami noticed a lot of people around her were getting up to dance), she continued to watch Sanji. She could tell during their first song he was a little bit nervous, but having the positive reaction to it had set him at ease and he was much more comfortable now.

Nami propped her chin on her elbow and grinned. It was turning out to be a really good night. Sanji was doing great on stage, the others in the band looked like they were having a blast, and best of all, Deltana was apparently behaving herself because not an unkind peep could be heard from the audience.

Everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

><p>Once the last song in their set was completed, the band took a bow and was met by more enthusiasm from the audience as the lights came back on. People began to disperse or order more drinks as Paula appeared from seemingly nowhere to replace the band with a vinyl record player. She gave Sanji and a wink and a nod as the members of Turnover headed backstage.<p>

"That was amazing!" said Jimmy, hooting as he hugged Sanji from the side. Darryl came in from the other side, absolutely glowing and patting him on the back. "That was great! You did a really good job out there! We have a band and our lead vocalist isn't an awful, horrible person – and they can sing, too!"

Braeburn was beaming. "I'm so proud of you right now, Sanji. That was-"

"Well, well, well, I wasn't sure at first but it is you after all, Speedy."

For a moment, everything around Sanji started to slow down. _I know that voice . . . but it can't be. _He could hear his heart thumping in his ears, disbelieving what he was hearing as he turned and saw the purple-clad woman standing before him. He knew that hair, that face . . . it really was her. Sanji felt his heart fall into his stomach.

". . . Tanya?"

Tanya grinned wickedly as she advanced towards him, her arms crossed and a hint of malice in her eye. "Actually, I'm done with that nickname. It was a cute little shorthand for my real first name, but that's all in the past now. Four years in the past, actually – can you really believe it's been that long? But it doesn't matter. I'm not going by 'Tanya' anymore. It's 'Deltana' now."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Originally I wanted to use One Piece openings and closings, then decided to go with original lyrics instead. So if you liked the lyrics, yay, if not. . . I'm not a lyricist.

Now, we need to talk about more serious matters. Both Chapters 15 and 16 were posted from hospital beds. Back in August, I started having this cough that just did not want to go away. On January 26, my mom and I went to the doctor (fourth visit) and after running tests there and at a nearby hospital, they discovered a mass. Since then, there have been two biopsies. The long and short of it is I have cancer.

The kind of cancer I have is Hodgkin's Lymphoma, which is one of the more treatable, curable forms of cancer out there, even for those with more advanced stages (and I'm only stage two). I also have youth on my side (I'm only 26) and I've been developing a strong support network since this whole mess started. If you guys want to keep me in your thoughts and prayers, please do, I'm not going to turn down any support anyone wants to throw my way.

Thank you for reading _Mass x Acceleration _and everything in this series thus far (and of course for reading the rest of the series as it comes out), thank you for reviewing, and thank you for any support you guys throw my way during this time.

-Dixxy


	19. Deltana

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Eighteen: Deltana

* * *

><p><em>Four years earlier . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em>Sanji followed Tanya down the hall towards the spare bathrooms – they were mostly used as backups for when the restaurant was really crowded ,or if there was a problem with the normal ones. Tonight had a steady but normal flow of customers and the regular restrooms were running perfectly, so the extra restrooms and the surrounding hallways were completely deserted. Tanya was leaning against the door to the spare woman's room, her arms crossed and a playful look on her face. "I've been eyeing you for weeks, cutie," she said.<em>

_ The young cook felt his heart melt. She DID like him. "I've noticed," he said, trying to be smooth._

_ The young women looked both ways down the hall – Sanji followed suit, not sure what she was looking for. Once it appeared she was satisfied, Tanya grabbed his wrist and put a finger to her lips. She was smiling mischievously, but the cook was oblivious to her intentions. "Come on – if we're doing this we need to be quiet."_

_ Sanji cocked his head to the side. "Do what, exactly?"_

_ The girl rolled her eyes. "The door locks and people don't come down here. Privacy, duh."_

_ "You want to . . ." He was going to say "make out" (that warranted privacy, right?), but Sanji felt his heart nearly stop when he saw the young woman pull a shiny foil packet out of her purse – THAT was used for more than just locking lips and frisky fingers and he suddenly realized Tanya was moving a lot faster than he realized. _

_ Tanya winked. "Yeah. That."_

_ Sanji's palms started to sweat. They'd barely spent any time alone and already she wanted to go this far? His head was a mess – he was still a virgin, so this would be first time. Did he really want it to happen this way? Was this normal? Or had he just done something really, really right to get her this interested this quickly? _

_ Still . . ._

_ "In . . . the bathroom? Here? Now? But we've-"_

_ "Discreet," she said. "It's more exciting that way."_

_ Sanji shook his head. "Look, I actually kind of live here so if you'd rather go to my room-"_

_ Tanya shushed him. "We don't have time for that. Come on, hurry!"_

_ Sanji swallowed, looking behind him as he followed her into the restroom._

* * *

><p><em> The following day, Sanji offered to pick up Tanya's tab – she ate well that evening and thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. The cook had beamed. He was in love. He was okay that he lost his virginity in a bathroom stall because he had a girlfriend who kissed him and said he was good looking and well, that was all right, wasn't it? The other chefs had talked amongst themselves about unusual hookups they'd had in the past, and this was no different.<em>

_ Except that it had been his first._

_ Two days after, Tanya showed up with another guy – the son of a merchant ship captain._

_ Confused and hurt, Sanji waited for this other man to excuse himself before taking a seat across from her. He was a little surprised to see she was staring at him kind of funny, but found every last ounce of gall he had and forced himself to finish what he'd started. There had to be a logical explanation for this – right? They'd shared something special, hadn't they? _

_ "Tanya, what's going on?" he asked. "Who is that guy and what are you doing here with him?" Tanya stared at him blankly as Sanji reached across the table and took her hands. He tried not to panic, and kept talking. "Are you being forced into a marriage with him or something? Because I'll kick his ass if that's-"_

_ "I don't want you to kick his ass and no I'm not being forced into marrying him."_

_ "Then why are you on a date with him?" asked Sanji. "Tanya, please, I-"_

_ Tanya blinked, then covered her mouth. "Wait, wait, you thought . . . me and you?"_

_ Sanji felt the color drain from his face. "We're . . . not . . . together?"_

_ That was the moment things started to get ugly. "Why the hell would I date some stupid cook in a dumb restaurant? This guy makes more in a day than you make in a month," said Tanya, holding back laughter. Sanji didn't think this was funny at all and could feel his stomach starting to lurch. "You didn't think that thing in the bathroom a few days ago was serious, did you?"_

_ ". . . that was my first time," he said in a hushed whisper. Maybe she'd realize that she was hurting him, and maybe she could at least apologize, and maybe they could still, at least, be friends. If it was just a misunderstanding, he thought he could live with that. His heart was racing, and he wasn't sure if he should be crying or yelling. "Yes, I thought it was serious."_

_ "Explains why it was over so quick, Speedy," said Tanya, sighing as she rolled her eyes._

_ ". . . but I thought we had something!" Sanji hissed back._

_ "Baby, is this waiter bothering you?" Sanji turned to see that Tanya's date had returned, looking annoyed with his presence at the table. Tanya simply played with her hair and pouted. The other man ripped the chair out from under Sanji, sending him tumbling away from the table and getting the attention of the other patrons. Too shocked and heartbroken to do anything, Sanji didn't move as the other man placed his foot on his chest and pressed down. "Let me explain your place. Your job is to take our ORDERS, bring us our FOOD, and have a smile on your FACE the entire TIME. Got it, punk? Now go get our salads before I complain to the owner."_

_ "C'mon, Sanji, you're not going to take that from him!"_

_ "Yeah, get him!"_

_ "Whoo-hoo!"_

_ Sanji ignored their regulars as he stood, brushed himself off, and silently headed into the kitchen._

_ He cried himself to sleep that night._

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

* * *

><p>Deltana walked up to Sanji and crossed her arms. "Fancy seeing you here," she said.<p>

Sanji was at a loss for words. It was like watching a dream. She looked a little bit older, yes, but it had been four years since he'd seen her. Her hair was a bit longer and her makeup was a bit heavier, but it was her. He'd recognize those eyes and that voice anywhere. "I . . . didn't think I'd ever see you again," he said.

Braeburn exchanged a quizzical look with Jimmy. Darryl raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, either, Speedy," said Deltana.

The cook paled and felt his throat go dry.

"I'll give you credit – you can sing, and you can definitely still cook – I thought I recognized last week's beef barley, just like I used to get it back at the Baratie," said Deltana, drumming her fingers on her arms. "Quick, cheap, and easy – or was that something else? Care to remind me, Speedy?" The grin on her lips was dripping with malice.

Jimmy looked confused. "Sanji, do you and Deltana know each other?"

Deltana slid next to him and draped an arm around his shoulder – Sanji tried to recoil away, but she dug her nails into his arm. "Oh yes, we know each other. Because we've fucked. I'm sorry, did you idiots try to get away from my influence with your new singer? Sorry to burst your bubble . . . or pop your man cherries . . . but looks like that plan didn't work out very well."

"Deltana, shut up," said Braeburn, pushing Jimmy and Darryl aside to confront the woman.

"Oh please, you idiots thought you could clean up your act with him? First of all, sex sells, and the music business is no difference, so you're stupid for thinking you could get away from that. Second, you picked a guy who's probably had way more hookups than I've had – his reputation back in the East Blue preceded him for a while. 'For a good meal and a mediocre time call Sanji'. I saw that scrawled on the walls of more women's bathrooms than I can remember. Damn good cook, piss poor with his-"

"Stuff it!" Jimmy snarled – Darryl held him back.

Sanji watched in horror as the other members of the band reacted, and he hid his face in his hands as he thought back on his sexual history. He'd had a lot of one time encounters, often in places of convenience like broom closets or his partner's boat or isolated places on the Baratie where no one would bother them, and it occurred to him that very few of his partners had ever even seen his old bedroom. Every time, Sanji hoped that she would be different and that she wouldn't use him like the others had – there must be a girl out there who wouldn't use him like Tanya or Stacey or Fujiko or Lauren or all the others did. In the end, though, they all got free meals and rarely dealt with him again. None of them had loved him – not a one. He was a cheap, easy way to get lunch, and he did it all with a smile and a swoon.  
>Sanji realized that he'd fucked up big time. He was never going to get married. Women saw him as a means to an end for a free meal – he couldn't even give them children anymore, thanks to That Man (hell, because of him, they might see him as "that freak with two Devil Fruits"). Why would anyone want him for a boyfriend or a lover or a husband? No one would.<p>

Sanji wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die. _Oh God. I'm a slut._

"What does any of that matter? At least he shows up to practice sober and with his pants on," said Braeburn. He was lording his height and size over Deltana in an attempt to get her to back off – the chivalrous part of Sanji's brain was offended that Braeburn would stoop to this, but the blacksmith's motives were not lost of him and he held his tongue. "Something that you weren't so good at the last few months you were in the band. I'd say he's doing a fantastic job and I don't think he's had so much as a date since coming here to Apple Island, so lay off!"

"I think we all made it pretty fucking clear a couple of months ago you're out – dragging out Sanji's dirty laundry is not going to make what happened go away," said Jimmy, crossing his arms and glaring at Deltana. "So what? Sounds like it's probably ancient history, and those looks he's giving you aren't guilty ones so I'm guessing whatever went wrong was your fault."

Darryl was glaring coldly at their former vocalist, not needing a word to convey his disgust.

It didn't change how Sanji was feeling. Had this happened before, he wouldn't need someone to jump to his defense. He could have handled this on his own. Or, then again, the old him might have tried to go back to her, even knowing how she viewed him. That might have been even worse, and he felt his throat go dry at the thought.

"Boys, we fucked in a public restroom - how he was dumb enough to think that meant something is beyond me, and his boo-hooing a few days later? Pathetic. 'But it was my first time! I thought you were serious!' Wah, wah, wah," Deltana spat. Sanji clenched his eyes shut – he couldn't stomach what kind of looks he might have received from the other members of the band.

"You. Get out. NOW!" Braeburn bellowed.

Despite it all, Sanji just wanted to crawl into a hole. _Everyone, please stop talking._

"Oh come on, isn't he fucking the mayor's assistant?" said Deltana.

"No I'm not!" Sanji snapped – she was NOT dragging Nami into this. "We aren't like that!"

Sanji felt his heart jump into his throat. That was true. They weren't like that.

_. . . and that's not going to change_.

Nami was his friend – that's all she'd ever be. She wouldn't possibly want him. Not with the way he'd treated her (and every other pretty woman they'd encountered) before they'd been kidnapped. Not if she found out how . . . sordid . . . his sexual history was. He'd been stupid to think anything was changing between them. He was lucky they were friends at all. There was no way she'd entertain the idea of being with him as more than that.

"Deltana. Leave. Now," Braeburn threatened sternly, one arm pointed at the closest exit. "You're not performing tonight, so you have no reason to be back here. Stop harassing Sanji – you're not getting back in the band and acting like this wouldn't help your cause even if you had a chance. Get out of here NOW."

Deltana stuck her nose up and strutted away, glaring back at the band cruelly.

"Sanji . . . are you okay?" asked Jimmy, waving his hand in front of his face.

"I . . . I need some time alone," Sanji said slowly, lowering his head to wander off.

The remaining members of Turnover exchanged worried glances.

* * *

><p>Nami waited patiently for Sanji by the entrance to the Cider Mug, happily holding her purse in front of her as she bounced a little in place to the music now playing. A few people were still around swaying to the music, but a lot of them had left at the end of the live performance. <em>This is a working community, after all . . . guess they all have work in the morning. <em>She cracked a grin. _Still, that was so great!_

Though she considered herself a woman of many talents, music was not something Nami considered herself particularly well versed in . . . especially after her audition for the band had gone so poorly. That didn't change her opinion of Sanji's performance – he was _really_ good up there and left her more than a little pleasantly surprised. Even if he'd missed every other note, Nami couldn't tell the difference, nor did she particularly care – she liked what she heard . . .

_. . . and what I saw._

Although he'd been nervous at first, Sanji had found his confidence for the second song. Although not doing anything particularly complicated, he was moving around a little and using the microphone and its stand to his advantage, swaying and swinging his hips in time with the music when called for. He was smiling brighter by the end of it, and seemed a little tired but satisfied when he and the band took their bow after the last number was over.

Now she just needed to make sure she didn't lose her own confidence.

Sanji made her happy and why shouldn't she be happy? Part of the point of being on the island was to help them recover from what That Man did to them and shouldn't finding things that made them happy be a part of that? It wasn't like they needed to jump into the deep end right away or anything, maybe just go out to lunch and acknowledge it was a date-date and not a two-friends-having-lunch-thing. They could worry about more intimate things like making out or – Nami shuddered a little – making love – later on.

Still, what was taking them so long? It had been close to a half hour – Sanji said he didn't think it would be that long after their set was done that they'd meet her and they'd decide where to go from there. Maybe they just got caught up talking after the show? Getting frustrated and a little impatient, Nami started to weave through the crowd to get to the backstage area.

Once she got there (after having squeezed between a particularly frisky couple and an oblivious drunk), she found Jimmy sitting by himself, looking around in worry. When he saw Nami he got to his feet and went over to her. "I'm so sorry, Miss Nami, are you looking for Sanji?"

"Yeah – is everything okay?"

Jimmy avoided eye contact. "Um, not exactly. Uh, if he wants to give you the details I've leave it up to Sanji, but he and our old vocalist exchanged some words and after she took off in a huff, he took off to 'be alone' – he looked really depressed, so Darryl and Braeburn went after him." Nami listened to the story with concern.

_Shit. Deltana DID do something. But what?_

"They 'exchanged some words'? What exactly happened?" asked Nami.

"It got a little personal," said Jimmy. "Apparently Sanji and Deltana know each other."

"Huh? But Sanji said he'd never met her before when we talked about it before," said Nami.

"That's what he thought, yeah, but when he knew her she was going by a nickname," the drummer said somberly. "Has he ever mentioned a 'Tanya'?" Nami shook her head. "Well, apparently Deltana still has a big affect on him – he was really, really down when he left. She said some really mean things to him."

Before they could continue any further, Braeburn and Darryl appeared with Sanji sandwiched between them, their arms over his shoulders as they encouraged him to "not let her get to him" and "forget about her she's a stupid pants", with the blacksmith doing all of the talking and the guitarist being as sympathetic as he could. Nami rushed over to Sanji, planting herself directly in front of him. He paused, looked up, and just stared at her sadly.

"Sanji-kun, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he said.

Nami bit her lip. "Braeburn, mind if I take Sanji home now?"

"I was going to suggest that, actually," said Braeburn.

Nami wrapped her arms around Sanji for a hug. She froze when he didn't return it.

_Sanji-kun . . . what's wrong?_

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

I wanted to start off by thanking everyone who left reviews offering their prayers and thoughts (and if anyone out there didn't feel comfortable commenting but is keeping me in their thoughts and prayers anyways, thank you to you, too!). Thank you so, so much. As things happen that I'm comfortable sharing I'll toss you guys an update every so often.

I've had two chemo treatments so far (I get them every other week). My step dad and best friend collaborated on a buzz cut almost a week ago and the timing on that was good. I have two wigs and a "bangs" piece (which is meant to go under a hat or scarf to look like bangs) and I might get a halo or two (halos are like bangs, but with hair on the sides and back). I've been tired a lot, too, but I'm trying to get out and about where I can.

Again, thank you so much for your support, thoughts, and prayers.

Dixxy


	20. Celibacy

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Nineteen: Celibacy

The walk back to the apartment was in silence, and their strides were slow – they hadn't exchanged words since before leaving the rest of Turnover backstage. Nami kept looking at Sanji with worried eyes, trying to coax a response from him. Nothing worked – his eyes seemed empty and almost lifeless as he ambled forward.

When they got back to their building, Sanji started to pat down his jeans for his keys – Nami started looking for hers and fetched them from the confines of her purse. She held them out to him – Sanji blushed and little and gave her a low registered 'thank you' as he let them into the building. Nami bit her bottom lip in worry as he passed her. _Sanji-kun, what did she DO to you?_

Nami spent the ascent up the stairs to their floor gathering determination. Once they were in their apartment it would just be them – no Deltana or Tanya or whoever the hell she was, no Turnover, no anyone, just them. Maybe he just needed to get away from the outside world for a little bit – that was okay. They could handle that.

Once they were inside the apartment, Nami asked her question. "Sanji-kun, what happened?"

Sanji looked at her sadly as he took off his scarf. "Mind if I take a shower?"

"Not until you tell me what-"

He interrupted her as he started to walk towards the bathroom, kicking off his shoes. "Deltana's the girl I lost my virginity to back when I was seventeen. She broke my heart." Sanji peeled out of his t-shirt and disappeared down the hall to take his shower, leaving Nami stunned in the middle of their living room.

Vaguely, she did remember her conversation with Sanji about their sexual histories.

_". . . I was seventeen when it happened. It was a one-time fling. I thought it was something more than it was. She'd been making eyes at me for a while, so I thought she liked me and I kind liked her because she was definitely cute, but . . . she did not want anything more than a fling. And a free meal. She got both. And then she came in a few days later . . . she made a comment about my inability to perform to her liking and then left. Never saw her again."_

Sanji had tried to brush it off as no big deal, citing his ability to flirt with women years after it had happened and joking that it gave him "practice", but there was an underlying pain to the story. This hadn't been a case of puppy love when he was a child or some random girlfriend – this was the girl he'd had his first time with, and based on Nami's encounter with her earlier that day . . .

Nami fumed. _He does NOT need this right now! We're supposed to be moving past things that hurt us, not picking at the wounds!_ She calmed herself and realized that Sanji probably hadn't been the instigator – Braeburn and the other guys in the band wouldn't have been that worried about him if he'd been a willing participant in the exchange, whatever it was.

Trying to come up with a plan, Nami slid into the kitchen. She heard the water turn on in the shower and took a deep breath, looking around for a solution. Hopefully the hot water was making him feel better. She filled their kettle with hot water and put it on the stove. Maybe a cup of tea would calm him down a little – the weather was getting warmer, but it might still make him feel better.

* * *

><p>Sanji stood under the stream of the shower, leaning against the tiled wall as he thought about the night's events and the events of many days previous. Just how many of them had there been? How many partners did he have? He held up his hand and started counting fingers – six women he'd gone to bed with that he considered girlfriends. Okay, that wasn't so bad.<p>

_But how many of them heard of my reputation first and thought . . ._ he swallowed.

Then, what about one night stands? How many was it? How many girls had used him once and discarded him like a used doggy bag? He started counting again. Sanji figured it out by location. How many girls made it to his bedroom? Ten. How may had been on his old boat? That was another five, so he was up to twenty-two. There'd been three girls he'd been with in Zeff's room (he'd been upset with him over something stupid and did it partially to spite the old man), so twenty five. Fifteen girls had taken him to their boats, so that was forty. One girl had been with him in the Mackeral Head #1. Forty one. Another had been with him on one of the upper decks of the Baratie. Forty two. Five more had slept with him at inns or taverns on islands around the East Blue, usually when he was out on a supply run. That made forty-seven.

Forty-seven.

_Forty-fucking seven_.

And he didn't think was even the end of the list.

Sanji slid to the floor of the shower. Just how many people had used him and his body? He grasped his head with his hands, trying to stop himself from remembering anymore. He didn't want to remember anymore. It had all been meaningless, and he hated the thing he'd turned himself into – maybe the Love Cook was gone, but his ghost was still haunting him.

Getting to his feet, he shut the water off and opened the door. He paused, finding himself staring face to face with none other than Kishido, sitting on their toilet and looking at him pensively. Sanji felt a gasp catch in his throat, but he didn't dare speak as the armored version of himself got to his feet. "That many women, Sanji?" he asked, a disappointed and displeased look on his face.

Sanji squeezed his eyes shut and looked away. He didn't want to deal with this.

"You say you follow kishido, and you don't want to hurt any women," he said, advancing on Sanji. "And yet what would you have to offer the next one? Could you marry her? You're a pirate – you'd get chased out of the chapel before your bride could even walk herself down the isle – you'd just leave her there, standing at the altar all by herself."

Sanji closed his eyes, trying not to picture Nami crying alone at a church altar.

"You're sterile – you couldn't give her children."

There she was again, looking sadly at an empty cradle, rocking it back and forth.

"Do we even need to talk about how much of a freak you are?" said Kishido. "You're lucky only Mac and Gala know about your situation here – Braeburn, Ria, Jimmy, Darryl, Wendy, Sundae, everyone who works at the Cider Mug, they'd label you a freak. Just having ONE Devil Fruit power would do that – any idea what people would do to someone with two?"

Sanji wanted it to stop. He couldn't bear the thought of Nami getting hurt because of him.

"You know what you need to do. You can still make this right."

* * *

><p>By the time the water was hot enough and Nami had found a box of Sanji's favorite chamomile, the shower had stopped and she'd heard Sanji go into their bedroom. She started to steep two cups of the tea and brought it over to their table, hoping Sanji would be lured out by the scent. Thinking that maybe some cookies might help, too, she grabbed her secret stash of shortbread.<p>

Sanji emerged from their room in a plain t-shirt and pajama bottoms. "I'm sorry I was a jerk."

Nami shook her head, encouraging him to sit down with her for the tea and cookies. "You weren't a jerk. Just tell me what happened – tonight, what happened between you and that woman, anything. I want to know what you're going through so I can try to help you," she said. Sanji looked over the treat, sighed, and dunked a cookie into the tea.

"I was seventeen, and Tanya – that's what she went by – was a regular at the Baratie. She kept making eyes at me and sort of led me on for a few weeks until one day she lured me towards the back of the restaurant. I probably thought it was to set up another meeting or maybe make out or something, but she . . . wanted to have sex, then and there," said Sanji.

"Okay," said Nami, raising a cookie to her mouth.

"In one of the extra bathrooms," he said.

Nami paused mid bite. "What?"

"I lost my virginity in a woman's bathroom stall," he said, looking humiliated. Sanji held his head in his hands. "I thought she wanted to be my girlfriend so I was okay with it, like it would be one of those wild stories I heard the other cooks talk about all the time. I tried to convince her to go back to my room but she was all 'no, no, we won't get caught back here' and like an idiot I went along with it. Then she comes back a day or two later with the son of some rich merchant ship captain and tells me it didn't mean anything."

"Sanji-kun . . ." Nami reached across the table to try and comfort him – Sanji pulled away.

"I don't make good decision when it comes to women. You know how many sexual partners I've had? Forty-seven, and I'm pretty sure I'm not remembering all of them. Almost all of them were one-night stands, and the ones that were girlfriends or something that went beyond one night all fizzled out in less than two weeks. And . . . I know some guys brag about that but . . . I'm not proud of myself for that. Apparently I even had a reputation around the East Blue for being a slut – I didn't think men could GET reputations but no, the word was that if a girl wanted a free meal at the Baratie they just needed to drop their panties and I'd provide it."

Now Sanji seemed like he was getting really upset. "I always thought I was attractive or something but . . . no, they were all looking to get something out of me and I was too stupid to realize it. They just played along and let me think I was some kind of smooth operator. I couldn't understand why the women on the Grand Line didn't seem interested after I joined Luffy but now I get it – it's because I was just a meal ticket to one of the best restaurants in the East Blue and the reputation couldn't follow me there. It's not because I'm handsome or charming or funny or anything women like – I'm just a whore."

Nami felt a pang of guilt so strong she wanted to hurl. Even if she and Sanji had never had sex, she'd probably used him even worse than all of his one night stands combined. She wanted to start crying herself, apologizing for everything she'd made him do or coerced him into doing with a wink or coy pout or any other dangled carrot. Sanji was breaking to pieces right in front of her and she couldn't help but think this was partly her fault.

"Sanji-kun, please calm down," Nami said. She tried reaching for him again, this time successfully taking his hands. He looked up at her, his eyes getting a little misty. "Deltana or Tanya or whoever she is, she's just a bitch – she's probably just trying to make you upset over her stupid place in the band and you're letting her get to you. Don't put yourself down like that. You are not a slut."

Sanji closed his eyes. "Nami-san, we do not have enough fingers and toes between the two of us to count all of the women I've had sex with. If I'm not a 'slut' it's because I'm a 'huge slut'." He took a deep breath and clenched his eyes shut, trying to stop himself from crying. Nami tried to soothe him, only to have him jerk his hands away and shake his head. "No. No, I see what you're trying to do."

"Please, we're friends, please I-"

"I think I get it now. I know what I need to do. I'm done with women," he said. Sanji swallowed, opened his eyes, and slowly looked up at her. "That's it – that's what I'm going to do. I'm done with women. I'm going to be celibate for the rest of my life. No dating, no sex, I'm done with it. Then maybe I-"

"Sanji-kun, that's nuts! You're only twenty-one, you've still got your whole life ahead of you. Somewhere out there is a woman who can love you the way all those other girls didn't! You can't go around making rash decision just because one stupid bitch made you cry. You told me you wanted to find the one and settle down with her and raise a family and it meant a lot to you – don't just throw in the towel like that!" She closed her eyes. "Just . . . you need to put more thought into this. You're upset and this just happened what, an hour or two ago? You need to calm down before you just decide to cut off an entire part of your life."

"And what could I give this woman? Nami-san, even if I'm not sailing the seas right now I'm a pirate. I'm a sterile pirate with no future and so many notches on my bedpost it's whittled down to toothpick. I'm no prize. I can't start a family, I can't settle down somewhere, and I'd be doing a disservice to that woman by tying her to me. Fuck, I'm a Devil Fruit user with two fruits – I'm a freak even by THAT standard."

"Sanji-kun, I-"

Sanji shook his head and put a finger to her lips. "This is for the best, Nami-san."

* * *

><p>It was only their inability to sleep alone that brought Sanji into their bedroom that night, but he kept himself to one side. Normally they planted themselves firmly in the middle, talking about how their day had gone or sharing things that their friends on the island were up to. Then they'd drift off to sleep, comforted by the presence of their companion.<p>

Sanji had his back to her.

Nami felt cold and alone, even with her share of the blanket and the warm late-spring air outside. Sanji was hurting, too, but he'd completely shut her out. She clung to her pillow and clenched her eyes shut. Nothing about this situation was good. Her growing feelings for Sanji were punching her in the gut. His decision to give up women wasn't going to solve anything and that awful Deltana woman was going to continue tearing him up inside.

She wondered if it was true that all of Sanji's past partners had really just used him for a free meal ticket at the Baratie. Nami always figured guys didn't care and if someone was willing to touch them they were game – especially someone like Sanji. Then again, knowing what she knew about him, it made some sort of bizarre sense.

Sanji really did want to find the love of his life. He wanted to get married, he wanted to have children, and he wanted someone to grow old with – she couldn't blame him for not wanting to die alone. She remembered his reaction to learning he was sterile – he'd been devastated that he couldn't have children anymore (at least, not until they were sure the damage That Man had done was permanent or not). Sanji was giving up on something he wanted nearly as badly as he wanted to find the All Blue, all because of something someone had said to him.

Nami was well aware that there was talk amongst the other Straw Hats about Sanji's sex life – she knew that two of the guys had a running bet over whether the cook was the lady's man he claimed to be or if he was just a desperate virgin, and she, admittedly, had talked with Robin about him a few times (although, to be fair, Sanji WAS actively hitting on them both at the time so it was kind-of their business). Zoro always called him "love cook" like it was a bad thing, but as far as she knew the subject of these talks was oblivious to it all, or at least it wasn't bothering him.

Deltana had mentioned he had a reputation though, and Nami wondered how far across the East Blue it was. She vaguely remembered, about a year before joining Luffy, being very hungry and a couple of well-to-do girls laughing about a way to get a warm meal in exchange for "spreading her legs" – she'd walked away, but wondered if she hadn't encountered a pair of Sanji's former flings. They'd seemed catty and shallow and she'd disliked both of them instantly, thinking that whoever their meal ticket was couldn't have been much better. But if this person had been Sanji, they'd been laughing about stringing him along.

Nothing about this felt right. Nami tried to tell herself that people lived perfectly happy, celibate lives and she was just upset because of her own feelings. But the more her mind spun itself into a tizzy, the more she realized that her own romantic interests weren't playing into this. Even if they never became lovers, Sanji was still her friend and he was hurting – very badly. This didn't feel like his decision, he didn't seem happy, and absolutely no one was benefiting from it – not even Deltana.

Weren't they supposed to be getting better on this island? Physically they'd made leaps and bounds, but after tonight their emotional well being had taken a nose dive. Maybe it was a bad idea to convince Sanji to join Turnover after all – maybe it was even more her fault for putting him in the line of fire – he might have been okay if Deltana never figured out he was on the island, or at least not somewhere she'd tried to hurt him like she had, or after he'd gotten more of his confidence back some other way.

_I'm so sorry, Luffy, I made us worse again,_ she thought miserably.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Sorry this took so long – every time I went to look at this for a final read through to try and catch mistakes and typos (you know, because I'm SO GOOD at catching them all _) I got tired and gave up before finishing. On top of that convention season is upon us and I have convention prep to do (yes, I'm still going to try and do a convention – I think I'll be okay as long as I rest well when I need to, wear a medical mask, and avoid licking any doorknobs) so I'll be busy with that, too.

-Dixxy


	21. What Do I Do?

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Twenty: What Do I Do?

A week went by, and the wall of ice in their apartment had only grown.

Ever since Sanji had made his "decision", things had changed, and it was far worse than Nami had originally predicted. She thought that maybe with time it she'd get used to it, and Sanji would be normal again, just living a life free of romantic entanglements. She tried to believe she was overreacting, she tried to believe he'd realize he was overreacting, but it didn't help.

When they were both home, things were awkward and only bare minimum communication took place – basic greetings and farewells, questions about how their days went with one word answers, requests about grabbing something if the other was going out. It was all about the motions and nothing more. Their friendship – the meaningful parts of it – had vanished into thin air.

Bedtime was the worst. Sanji had tried sleeping on the couch after that first night, but it was preventing both of them from sleeping and none of the attempts went beyond two hours. The lack of sleep both were experiencing probably wasn't helping either of their situations, and eventually he gave up, at least for the time being. Still, he kept himself to one side of the bed, always with his back to her. Even with the heat of summer approaching, Nami always felt cold.

True, her feelings for Sanji had grown, and it hurt to think that the door to something more than friendship had closed, but what really strung was the loss of everything they had before – the bonds they'd forged as pirates, as prisoners, and during their recovery on Apple Island. Sanji really had become her most precious treasure, and no amount of gold or silver could bring him back now that it looked like he was, effectively, gone.

Sanji was insistent that he was fine, but everything about him seemed a bit off kilter. His cooking had become bland, lacking his usual pizzazz and passion. Much to her surprise he was staying with the band (at least for now) but he didn't seem as invested in studying as he was before. Even the way he walked and the way he moved just wasn't him. He was a shell of a person, haunted by the memories of Deltana and the countless others who'd broken his heart.

Nami was more than a little grateful when Ria stopped by one afternoon with three cups of coffee and a written notice that she wanted to re-do the interior of her shop. "One for you, one for our dear Mr. Mayor, and one of me," Ria said with a smile and a wink as Nami started to look for the appropriate paperwork.

"Thanks – Mac stepped out a while ago but he should be back any minute, and he does love his coffee," said Nami. She sifted through the paperwork and sighed. At least someone in the room was bright and chipper. "So you want to tear down a wall to make more space in the shop? That's nice. It'll be good for your business."

"Yeah, business has been going really well and I wanted more room to display things, especially with summer coming and the harvest festival after that," Ria said dryly as she took a sip of coffee. She sat on the edge of the reception desk and eyed Nami. "Everything okay, sugah? You look like you got a little rain cloud hanging over your head."

"Not really," she said. "I don't know if Braeburn told you about what happened with Deltana."

Ria scoffed and crossed her legs. "Yeah, he did. So what if she and Sanji bumped uglies?"

"Sanji-kun was really, really badly affected by it. I'm not sure how they convinced him to stay in the band but he kind of had a break down after we got back to our apartment." Nami told Ria about Sanji's decision to swear off women and how badly things had been going at their apartment since then. The seamstress winced in sympathy.

"Damn. But, wait a minute – you kept telling me the two of you weren't in that kind of relationship, so his deciding to be celibate . . . did I miss something?" Ria asked, looking at her with and odd expression. Nami swallowed, trying to figure out how to answer. The seamstress leaned in and touched her face. "Sugah, are you crying?"

"I. . . I'm sorry . . . I just . . . I don't know what happened," Nami said, tears falling down her cheeks. No, no, no, she did NOT want to cry over this. She clenched her eyes shut as she heard the town hall doors open and close, distantly hearing the sound of the mayor. Nami opened her eyes and saw Mac hobbling towards her in concern and Ria shooing him away.

"I'm sorry, Mac, mind if Nami and I borrow you office for a little girl talk? I brought you coffee?"

* * *

><p>Mac needed his office, but the break room on the other side offered Nami the privacy she needed. Ria and Mac quickly made a sign telling anyone who came in to knock on the mayor's door for assistance. All of this only served to make her feel even worse and more pathetic, and in that moment she hated herself for getting this upset over the situation.<p>

Ria had made a makeshift "couch" out of two chairs pushed together and had Nami lean on her shoulder. The seamstress had her arm around her and was laying her head over her friend's, trying to comfort and be there for her. She was quiet, content to sit there with her legs crossed as Nami let her emotions gush out.

"I don't know what happened," she finally said.

"Tell me," said Ria.

Nami swallowed. "I started feeling things about him," she said. "It wasn't supposed to happen."

Ria squeezed her shoulder. "Sometimes it starts with friendship."

"But now I feel like everything's just gotten worse because of it," Nami said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "We were supposed to just stay friends, weren't we? And if I didn't have these stupid feelings for him this celibacy thing wouldn't hurt so much. . . except that he's not himself and that worries me. A lot." She accepted the tissues Ria gave her and blew her nose. "It's all messed up."

Ria clucked her tongue. "Sugah, it's not your fault you started to have feelings for him."

Nami shook her head. Even if Ria was right about her feelings not being anyone's fault, she didn't think she was an innocent in this situation. "But I'm the one who convinced him to audition, and I'm the one who waited to act on saying something to him. If I hadn't talked to him about the band, or if I'd said something to him earlier, we might not be in this mess, and I hate myself for getting upset over something so stupid!"

"This isn't stupid – your heart is breaking, it's okay to get upset, and Deltana is a huge bitch for saying all those things she said to him and getting his panties in a twist," said Ria. She gave Nami a squeeze. "I've had my heart broken before, too. I've never seen it happen like this, though. But falling in love is NOTHING to be ashamed of, and it isn't stupid." She crossed her arms. "And as for the audition and the band and the blow out with Deltana? How in the hell were you supposed to know someone he has some ancient history with was here on _this_ island of all places? You weren't, because that was a million to one shot that they'd both end up here."

"It's . . . not just that. I used to use him a lot, too," said Nami. She swallowed, looking at her hands. "Before we were taken away . . . we were both different. You would barely recognize the person I was. I was always so focused on money and getting my way half the time, and Sanji-kun was . . . he liked everything on two legs. Including me. And I used that to my advantage to get things from him, and he happily obliged. I was just as bad."

"Now that I doubt," said Ria. "I mean . . . I don't doubt what that horrible man did to the two of you didn't change you both. Big stuff does that to a person. But I'm going to guess that whatever it is you two may have done to each other, either him hitting on you or your using him to get stuff . . . the two of you have a very strong friendship now. Even if you never said 'I'm sorry' to each other out loud, I think you forgave each other a long time ago."

Nami saw Ria's point, but it didn't make her feel any better. "I still don't think he's happy," said Nami, "but I don't know what to say to him. I don't think he wants to talk to me about it." She closed her eyes. "This isn't like him, and this is such a rash decision. But then he was telling me that he's been hurt so many times before, and it wasn't just her, so I don't know. I don't want to hurt him like that."

"I know, and I'm sure he knows you don't want to hurt him, either," said Ria.

"I've never felt like this for anyone before – I was so good at not falling in love," said Nami. "I couldn't. You know what my life was like before I joined Luffy? Oh, I was still a pirate, but it was different. Bad. I was my old captain's slave. He was holding my village hostage and making me draw maps and sea charts for him, all the while dangling this carrot that if I got enough money together he'd leave us alone, but once he realized I was getting close he sabotaged me – if Luffy hadn't intervened and saved me when he did, I don't know what would have happened, but I think a lot of people would have gotten hurt . . . or worse." She swallowed. "How could I live with myself if I brought someone else into that mess? It wouldn't be fair."

Ria got quiet, but continued to rub Nami's arm.

"I used to be strong and independent and now look at me. Crying over a man."

"Being a strong, independent woman isn't about not crying over men. . . most of the time, at least," said Ria. "It is perfectly okay and perfectly normal to fall in love with someone, and sometimes love hurts. I know it sucks, sugah, I've been there. A lot of people we know and love have been there. You think you're the only person on this planet who hasn't gotten moody and sulked like this? You're not the only person in this BUILDING who hasn't gone crazy over someone."

"Like you and the twins' father?"

Ria shook her head and shrugged. "No, not exactly. It was . . . let's call him a 'business connection' because at the time we were in similar lines of work." She closed her eyes. "He was a nice enough guy – a little rough around the edges but he had his soft spots, and I found him interesting – you don't usually get that with bounty hunters."

"You were a bounty hunter?" Nami asked skeptically, her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised. She rethought this and frowned, shaking her head apologetically as she remembered. "Sorry, sometimes I forget you're a swordswoman – I never see you with any swords so I don't think about it that much. You're either with your kids or your shop and that doesn't really mesh with what I think of when I think of, well, swordsmen."

Ria smirked. "It's fine, sugah – I keep my swords in good repair in case I need to use them and practice enough to keep myself in fighting form, but I don't want to use them unless I have to. Defending this island and my children is all I wish to use them for anymore." She clucked her tongue. "Bounty hunter wasn't exactly what I was doing, but I did turn in a few crooks for money."

". . . that's what a bounty hunter does."

"Shush. Anyways, we crossed paths a few times over a couple of days and ended up in a room at a tavern one night with plans to meet up again the next day to talk more business. He kind of disappeared on me after that, and not long after I found out I was pregnant." She shook her head. "I doubt he knows the girls even exist."

"So then it was just sex," said Nami.

"Yeah, pretty much – really GREAT sex, but still just sex," said Ria, shrugging it off. "I believe sex after love is a great idea and a beautiful thing, but it's never been a prerequisite for me. I'm fine with casual sex and one night stands, but I know it's not for everyone. And that's perfectly okay – it's my body, my choice. And for everyone else it's their body, their choice."

"Am I wrong for thinking Sanji's making a mistake, or am I just being selfish?"

"That I can't answer – you know him better than anyone, but the only person who can really decide if this is good for them or not is Sanji. I will say that choosing a life of complete celibacy without putting a LOT of thought into it, especially at our age, is probably an ill-advised choice, but he has to figure this out on his own. If he decides this is really what he wants to do, then the two of us will get ourselves dressed up and pick up guys at the Cider Mug and we'll find you a farmer with a firm ass. If he changes his mind and you can get his pants off, I'll make you some sexy negligees that Sanji's going to tear off of you with his teeth."

Nami couldn't help but chuckle at the joke – she was still sad and broken up inside, but even just a taste of humor was putting her in a slightly better place. Maybe she'd be able to get back to work soon. "Thanks, Ria. I think I'm doing a little better now." The seamstress smiled and gave her a hug, and it was good to know that, even if it wasn't the person she really wanted, someone was there for her.

"If he does change his mind, consider me your sexual fairy godmother."

Nami stuck her tongue out. "You're trying to live vicariously through me, aren't you?"

Ria laughed. "It is my honor and my pleasure, sugah."

"Thanks for talking some sense into me."

"It's okay – sometimes you need someone to point out the forest with all those damn trees in the way," said Ria. She pulled away. "Like I said – give him some time to sort this out. It's only been a week and he's got a lot to process, okay?" Nami nodded as she stood, and the two women walked out of the break room.

* * *

><p>Nami got home to the smell of food cooking in the kitchen. Sanji was making dinner, but everything about it was just, somehow, wrong. Of course Nami assumed everything he was doing was, in the technical sense, right (he would NEVER do anything to risk getting either one of them sick from improper cooking), this wasn't the person she knew.<p>

For one, Sanji was completely silent except for a muted "hey" when she walked in. Normally he gave her a cheerful greeting and waved or something before rambling on about what he was making and asking her if she had any special requests, or talking about his day (especially if he'd been watching the twins), or asking about her day. He'd always been so animated in the kitchen before – humming, bouncing from one item to another, flipping through cookbooks, anything.

At that moment he was standing in one place, absently moving a stir fry around in his wok.

Perhaps a telltale sign was the condition of his spice rack. Most of Sanji's kitchen was well-organized and neat as a pin, but never his spice rack. He'd developed a habit of taking most of the spices down from the shelves and moving them around in different combinations, muttering to himself as he shuffled them around the counter until he finally found an old favorite he wanted to return to or something new he hadn't considered before. As such, the spices never seemed to find themselves back on the rack in the same scheme twice, and only Sanji himself ever seemed to know where any given thing was. Some of the basics he used a lot were sometimes left out, and occasionally something would be put back upside down or lying on its side.

The bottles were standing in a line like soldiers at attention, gathering dust.

Nami didn't bother trying to engage him in conversation. She just smiled, slipped into the bedroom, ripped off her wig, and changed out of her work clothes. She doubted he would even notice, and chose a pair of black yoga pants with an orange stomach band and a plain white t-shirt. She returned to the living room. Sanji had changed positions, signaling that dinner might be ready soon. She curled up on Zoro's loveseat, waiting for the announcement that dinner was ready.

When Sanji called her over, Nami realized it was the same boring meal they'd eaten the past five nights in a row (baked chicken with a little salt, steamed vegetables with a hint of butter, and rice). She politely thanked him and they ate in silence only broken by the clinking of flatware against ceramic plates. Nami kept looking up at him, but realized he was solely focused on his food.

_This isn't good for you. Why are you doing this to yourself?_

When the food was finished, Nami offered to wash the dishes but Sanji quietly declined, forcing a smile and saying he would do it. It wasn't his usual smile – his lips were turned up in a grin, but his eyes looked sad and lonely. Nami considered trying again, but knew it wouldn't work. She retreated to the spare bedroom to sulk.

For the moment, the spare bedroom was something of a work room for both of them. There were some modest bookshelves lined with books they both needed, a desk, and an old piano Braeburn tuned every few days so Sanji would have something to practice at home with. It was dark and dimly lit, and seemed somehow desolate.

Nami sat at the piano bench. Sanji had been getting lessons with this as well, and little by little he was picking up on it. Braeburn guessed that he wouldn't be able to perform with one for a while, but it was still a good tool for practice and familiarizing himself with musical sounds and understanding what those were.

She ran her fingers gently across the keys – they were clean, so she knew he was practicing something. Maybe that was why he was staying with Turnover – it was giving him an outlet to vent, and perhaps once he was done with that he'd open up to the rest of the world again and go back to being the Sanji she knew and cared about.

Even if he didn't want to be with her the way she wanted him, she could live with that. Hearts broke – Nojiko had gone through some rough break ups, and Robin had apparently had a very intimate affair with one of the men who'd carried the Mr. 6 moniker that she got very emotional over (which, for the archaeologist, was getting quieter than usual and going to bed early). If they could move past their men, Nami would find a way to get over Sanji.

But even the thought of that hurt. Nami told herself it was because it was just so darn early in this whole process, but then again he wasn't someone she could avoid. They were roommates and saw each other every day – hell, because That Man had fucked them up so bad they had to share a damn bed just so they could sleep. He was going to be painfully close the entire time he was keeping himself so far away.

It didn't change that, for all her wits and wiles, she was at a complete loss for what to do.

Except, that is, for give him time.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

On Nami's yoga pants: Jerry from CP6 (CP6? I think it was CP6) had some sort of yoga pose on the sea train. Yoga exists in the One Piece world. Therefore, yoga pants are plausible.

Cancer update: Whee, was I happy with the results of my last scan! Tumor has shrunk 50%, fluid around my lung is gone, and what's left of the tumor is both less intensive and much of it's just dead cells at this point. So yeah, I'm kicking this thing's ASS.

Convention: The con I'm going to isn't until May, but I have a lot I need to do. For wigs/costumes I'm doing rule 63 Sogeking (so Sogequeen) and possibly just getting a fun wig in the dealer's room if I get sick of cosplay and want something lower maintenance (but I'm still going to want a medical mask).

Next time (provided I don't get any brilliant ideas) will touch a little on Sanji and his mental health, but through the eyes of Braeburn. And also massive teasing into the blacksmith's backstory (similar to or a little more than what you got of Ria's backstory).

Until next time!

-Dixxy


	22. Regretting Nothing

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Twenty-One: Regretting Nothing

There was no question about it – Sanji was not himself.

Braeburn was happy that Sanji was staying with Turnover, at least for now, but the passion and energy he'd found the night they'd performed at the Cider Mug for the first time had been sucked out after his little tiff with Deltana. He couldn't believe that they'd had a history, but, well, then again, knowing what he knew about both of them . . . it almost made a tragic sort of sense.

Deltana had been on Apple Island about two months before he and Ria made landfall. Her story wasn't as tragic some of the other tales that brought people to the island – she'd gotten involved with a merchant's son who had his hands dirty in the human trade and tried to sell her for a pretty penny after convincing her to leave the East Blue. She'd escaped by stowing away on what she hadn't realized was one of Shanks' ships, and the emperor took pity on her and allowed her to stay on this island, the safest of his territories on the Grand Line.

Sanji, Braeburn knew, had joined the Straw Hats while they were still in the East Blue, Deltana's sea of birth. Since he'd been working at such a high profile restaurant (and working under a formerly high-profile pirate, Red Foot Zeff), it seemed plausible to him that, well, yes, perhaps an encounter between the two was possible.

And really, Braeburn didn't blame Sanji for what happened. He wasn't a stranger to affairs of the heart, either, although it sounded like the cook had accumulated a much longer list of former partners. Braeburn could count his sexual partners with two hands (seven) and two of them he was absolutely certain he'd been in love with, the rest consisting of a couple of one night stands or girlfriends who didn't really work out for whatever reason. He got it, he really did.

The week after Turnover's big debut had been Deltana's solo debut, which the blacksmith had attended, making sure he was front and center to give his former vocalist the evil eye just in case she got any ideas about spreading rumors regarding her and Sanji. It happened, yes, and there was nothing they could do to change it, but Braeburn was NOT going to let her tear down his friend's reputation for her own chance in the spotlight.

Which, to put it "nicely", Deltana's solo debut was nothing short of a train wreck. She was clearly drunk, her vocals were way off, and it was only his loyalty to Sanji that kept Braeburn in that front row seat for the entirety of the performance. Sure a couple of drunks seemed to enjoy the "visuals" she provided, but the blacksmith noticed there were more empty seats after the lights went up than there were before they went down.

Still, the ones who stayed kept enough alcohol flowing to convince Haralson to keep her on rotation (which Braeburn understood – as much as he didn't like Deltana, the restaurant owner had to keep his employees paid and his business in good repair, and if she was bringing in enough money to make those things happen . . .). They'd alternate Friday and Saturday night performances every week going forward, and Braeburn would continue to make sure at least himself, Jimmy, or Darryl (who, for a, effective mute could be very intimidating) was at Deltana's shows to make sure she didn't attack Sanji's reputation.

But now it was a few days after Deltana's little show and it was time for Turnover to start concentrating on their next set, which would be that Friday. Braeburn was sorting through sheet music, trying to find songs that he suspected might brighten Sanji's mood, while waiting for his band to show up for practice.

There was a knock on the door. Braeburn got up to get it, and saw Sanji waiting outside. "Hey, you're bright and early today," he said with a grin. Sanji flashed him a quick smile, but otherwise stayed quiet. Braeburn stepped aside to let his vocalist in, but frowned to see that the other man was still moody.

Braeburn decided to usher Sanji into the living room to try and get through to him. "Is everything okay?" Sanji asked. The blacksmith encouraged him to sit down – the cook was a little fidgety, and Braeburn bit his bottom lip. "Did I do something wrong?" He swallowed. "I tried really hard the night of the performance – did I not do good enough?"

"No, no, you did fantastic! You had a couple of pitch problems here and there but you were FINE. To be honest, I went to Deltana's show a couple of days ago and we have definitely got a better product than she has – it was a mess, she sucks, don't worry about it. I'm worried because you haven't been yourself since the show," said Braeburn. Sanji sighed and looked away. "Jimmy and Darryl are worried, too. What's going on, exactly? I get that you and Deltana have a history but this is different."

"She made me a whore," said Sanji, staring ahead with his hands in his lap. He paused, sighed, and turned to look at him. "Braeburn, I lost my virginity in a public restroom! She set me on this horrible path and I didn't realize how much I fucked my life up until the night of the performance. This is more than just history – my sex life is like a blue print for how not to be with women."

"Sanji, sometimes people don't have a . . . perfect record . . . when it comes to the people we end up in bed with. I've been the unwitting 'other man' before and I had one girlfriend who was, to be polite, the scariest broad I've ever met," said Braeburn. He winced at the memory of her screaming at a cat over a can of tuna . . . and then trying to decapitate said feline with a machete. "Matters of the heart can be confusing and it takes a while to figure it out. I'm thirty-two and I'm still not sure I've got a good grip on it."

Sanji looked away. "I'm twenty-one and I'm pushing at least fifty partners."

Braeburn put on his best poker face. _Are you part rabbit? _"How old were you the first time?"

"Seventeen, and keep in mind I haven't had any since I was nineteen, when I was . . . you know. I racked up that number over about a two year period. Whatever it is. I stopped counting at forty-seven, but I'm pretty sure there's more. I just can't stomach thinking about it," he said. He sighed. "I wanted to find the one – someone to woo and romance and marry someday. Someone to raise a family with. But I don't think that's possible anymore."

"Why not?" asked Braeburn.

"You don't even know all of the stuff wrong with me. I'm a pirate, first of all – I can't offer a woman stability. Thanks to that asshole I'm sterile so I can't give a woman children. I don't necessarily feel like I needed to be a virgin on my wedding night but I think the number I've been with is excessive, especially considering, in the end, not a one of them actually MEANT anything," said Sanji. He turned to Braeburn. "All of them were one night stands or girlfriends who just . . . didn't mean anything. I've had tons of sex, but I've never once made love to a woman. I know there's got to be a difference but I've never experienced that. I probably THOUGHT I was doing that, but no, no I wasn't."

Braeburn closed his eyes. "I've been lucky – there are two women I've been with who I was in love with and the sex we had was love making." Braeburn closed his eyes, smiling a little at the memories. "They were both . . . amazing. I didn't have that long with either of them, but those years and months are sacred to me."

Sanji crossed his legs. "They weren't at the same time, were they?"

"What? No! No, no, no, I've never cheated on a woman, least of all those two," Braeburn said defensively, holding up his hands. "And you're right – it is different when you're in love. There are similarities, of course, but the emotions and the intimacy can't be compared," he said. "You'll understand when you find one you really love."

"No, I won't," said Sanji. "I'm giving up on women."

Suddenly, Sanji's odd behavior was explained. "You're what?"

"I'm tired of being hurt by women and making bad decisions around them," said Sanji. He put his head in his hands. "You have no idea how BAD I was before we were kidnapped. I hit on almost EVERY woman I ran across. I salivated over Nami-san like some kind of a dog in heat and treated her like a fucking object – same goes for the other women we've traveled with. And the way I treated the men in my life was disgusting. Braeburn, you are probably the closest guy friend I've ever had. There's one guy on my old crew I used to get into physical altercations with every single day – we just could not get along. And I was always yelling at and berating everyone else. I was an asshole, and it took getting tortured for a year for me to realize that."

Braeburn stayed quiet, unsure how to respond to this part of Sanji's confession. Still, it seemed like something else was going on under the surface, but what? After contemplating for a few more moments, the blacksmith raised a question. "So . . . you used to have a crush or something on Nami?" he asked. He could see where Sanji would get that – she was pretty cute.

Sanji looked like he'd been shot through the heart. "My feelings for her came back."

Braeburn turned his head to the side. "You're in love with Nami?"

"I'm not sure how it happened. It's like I completely fell out of love with her and then I realized I was thinking about her a lot and . . . all of the songs I picked? I realized they were all about her. And my feelings were different from before. Before it was a lot of lust and carnal feelings. I wanted her bad, but it was a lot of focus on her body, not who she was. When I realized part of what was turning me on recently was her personality and her spirit and who she is I figured out it was different."

"So why give up on women if she makes you happy?" asked Braeburn.

"Because I don't think I can make _her_ happy," said Sanji, lowering his head into his hands again. "And I can't risk our friendship. If we tried to make a romance work and it failed, I don't know what it would do to us. It might destroy us. Braeburn, we STILL can't sleep apart, and I've tried a lot harder but all it did was make us both extra tired."

"Why can't you make her happy?"

"I already told you – I've had too many partners, I don't know how marriage and family would work with everything that's happened . . . I just . . ." Sanji's voice caught in his throat. "I have to do this. Being with her would be selfish of me. She can do so much better than me, and I can't tie her down. She's smart and beautiful and driven and I can't give her what she deserves."

Braeburn stayed quiet. He'd heard everything Sanji was saying, but deep down he didn't believe him. _Deltana dug her claws into his heart and as long as that grip doesn't let go, he's not going to be able to move past this._ He reached over and touched Sanji's shoulder. "Don't just give up like this," he said. Sanji looked away, still clearly hurt. "Finding someone you love and sharing so much as a brush of the hand with them is amazing. And yes, losing them hurts – I've lost both of the women I love but you know something? I don't regret what I had with them, no matter how much it hurt."

"How did you lose them?" asked Sanji.

Braeburn felt a stab in his heart. "I don't want to talk about that right now."

"You were the one who said you'd lost the two women you loved the most."

"Just because I don't regret being with them doesn't mean the memories don't hurt."

"What could be so bad you don't even want to talk about it?" asked Sanji.

Braeburn felt himself lose his temper. "One's dead, and the other . . . I don't know!"

Sanji got quiet, and the blacksmith immediately regretted bringing them up. "Braeburn . . . I'm sorry. I had no idea you'd been hurt like that," he said quietly. Braeburn shook his head, and realized that maybe this was a conversation the two of them shouldn't have started. "I . . . still don't know if pursuing a romance is good idea for me anymore, and I'm really sorry about what happened to you . . . whatever it was that happened . . . but . . . ."

"Let's . . . let's go over your sight reading. You're getting better, but I think you still need some more practice, and since Jimmy and Darryl aren't here yet . . . maybe now's a good time, you know? Since it's just the two of us and we can concentrate," said Braeburn. Sanji paused for several moments before slowly nodding, and for the moment the conversation was dropped, neither man willing to broach the subject again as they headed to the music room.

* * *

><p>A few hours later, after Sanji, Jimmy, and Darryl left the forge, Braeburn found himself alone with his thoughts and his feelings, and the depth of his conversation with the cook hit him in the stomach again. Swallowing and fighting tears, he made sure his front door was locked before heading into his bedroom.<p>

Once in the confines of his room, Braeburn shut the door and opened the bottom drawer of his dresser. It's where he kept a simple mahogany box that contained his most valued possessions. He retrieved the box, shut the drawer, and sat down on the bed. As he started to flip the latches to open the container, he could already feel the tears starting to form.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

We'll get to Sanji's point of view next chapter, currently in the hands of my beta reader. Short chapter, I know (possibly the shortest one I've done so far) but there wasn't much to do this chapter, either. Next couple of chapters will be a bit meatier (this isn't set in stone but you're all PROBABLY getting Gala's backstory in Chapter 23)

-Dixxy


	23. Is This What I Want?

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Twenty-Two: Is This What I Want?

It had been a month since his encounter with Deltana, and Sanji still felt miserable.

Life on Apple Island had been going so well. Sanji was making friends and doing a damn good job of not constantly fighting with them. Even though he was working three jobs, he loved all of them and found different kinds of satisfaction with each one. He was bouncing back from what That Man had done to him and the woman who was now his best friend. And his friendship with Nami had been special, and his heart was telling him that maybe there could be more to it.

Now . . . now he didn't know what he wanted anymore.

Sanji kept on top of his jobs, trying to lose himself in the responsibilities he'd taken on. He still reported to the Cider Mug bright and early to make the day's soups, and still watched the twins whenever Ria needed him to. He kept up with his lessons and practices with Turnover. But somehow all of it seemed to be falling flat, and investing himself in any of it was taking everything out of him.

Yet, it was all a cakewalk compared to what he had to do to suppress his feelings for Nami.

Despite his best efforts to tell himself he was swearing off women and that was that, his heart still sang for her. Sanji felt like crying every time she walked through the door of their apartment. He loved her, but he couldn't possibly have her. He was broken – Nami deserved so much better. She deserved someone who could give her the world, someone who could make her happy and smile and laugh for the rest of her life. She didn't even seem that happy to see him anymore – maybe now that she saw just how much of a whore he really was she was starting to question him.

Making matters worse, Kishido was still haunting him. Not daily, but every so often he could see his other self – sometimes at the Cider Mug, either as a customer during his normal shifts as a cook or between numbers while performing with Turnover. Most of the time it was at home, especially if Nami was around. He'd be sitting in the living room or leaning against a wall, eyeing him coolly, as if daring him to speak to his friend.

"I'm protecting her from YOU," he'd spat once.

Sanji had returned to the spot on the beach where Cobbler had found them, the place where he'd drawn Nami's face in the sand. He was looking out at the horizon, torn on what was out there. Luffy and the others? Zeff? Or maybe That Man was still looking for them, ready to drag him back into the bowels of his ship to use his body again and again and again, injecting him with drug after drug and slicing him open and beating and electrocuting him and drowning him.

He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, sniffling before lowering his head. Sanji clenched his eyes shut, digging his fingers into his legs. His body wasn't his – not anymore. He'd been a sexual plaything for over fifty women. He'd been a guinea pig for Tesla. He couldn't get those things back – he'd never be able to swim again, he'd never have a truly fulfilling relationship with a woman, and it was all his own damn fault.

Sanji stayed there on the beach, sobbing to himself until his felt a large, warm presence to his left. He lifted his head and saw the large, shaggy form of Cobbler at his side. The dog whimpered at him, licking his cheek and nuzzling him. "Go away, Cobbler," Sanji said quietly. "I'm not worth your time. Go home."

Cobbler stayed put, laying down next to Sanji and snorting into the sand.

Sanji stared at the dog. "What do you want from me?" The dog whined again, then sat up and started to sniff him. "Can you smell it on me? Do I smell like a whore to you? Do I smell like Devil Fruit?" Cobbler licked him again. "I don't understand what you want from me. I'm not worth your time, you stupid dog! I'm just a whore of an ability user! I'm worthless to you!"

Cobbler just continued to stare at him sadly, nudging his shoulder with his nose.

New waves of tears rushed over him. "Cobbler . . . please . . . just leave me alone . . ."

The dog refused to obey. He stayed by Sanji's side, continuing to nuzzle and whimper at him. The cook gave up, burying his face in his knees again. He couldn't even get a stupid dog to leave him alone. How long before he screwed up with the Cider Mug or the twins or the band? How long before Nami got sick of him? How long before Luffy realized he could do better?

Cobbler licked him again.

Not sure exactly what he was doing, Sanji flung his arms around the dog and started to cry even harder. It was the most contact he'd had with anyone or anything in weeks. Cobbler smelled a little, in the ways animals usually do, but he was warm and soft and was treating him like a sick and injured puppy. Now the dog felt bad for him – how much lower could he sink? Sympathy from a dog?

Why did Cobbler even care about him?

* * *

><p>Sanji walked Cobbler back to Mac's house after he had a chance to compose himself. The mayor thanked him and offered him afternoon tea, but the cook politely declined. The dog tried to follow him as he left, but Mac had a good grip on his collar and gently ushered the animal inside. Sanji watched in disinterest – it really did seem like Cobbler was . . . worried.<p>

But why?

Sanji started the walk back to town, his hands in his pockets as he thought about this. Cobbler had sensed he was upset and tried to comfort him. He suspected the dog probably didn't understand what was going through his head, so he probably just saw him as a "sad human" without fully realizing what was going on. He didn't get it. He couldn't get it.

"Is this really what you want?"

Sanji paused and turned around. Standing on the path behind him was Luffy.

"Luffy!" Sanji cried, running towards his captain. Yasopp must have returned and brought Luffy and the others with him. He'd be able to see everyone – Usopp and Chopper and Robin and Franky and Brook, even the shithead swordsman and the ballerina would be there! He was in tears as he threw his arms around his captain . . .

. . . only to find nothing there. Sanji fell to his knees in the middle of the path, his arms wrapped around himself, tears flowing down his cheeks. _He's not really here. It wasn't really him at all. _He lowered his head, frustrated with the cruelty of the illusion. Making him believe he was seeing his captain again after so long?

The illusion stepped in front of him and squatted, much in the way the real rubber man did. "It's okay, Sanji. I'm sorry I'm not real," Luffy said solemnly. Sanji swallowed. Yeah, this wasn't . . . quite Luffy. The real Luffy would have been yelling and screaming and crying when he saw him, bouncing around in excitement. This hallucination was quiet and subdued as he sat itself down on the path and crossed its legs. "We need to talk."

"You're not real," Sanji said.

"I know. But you need to hear this," said the hallucination. The fake Luffy reached forward to where Sanji's chest was and closed his eyes. "Your heart is hurting. That's why I'm here. Because you're never going to get better if you don't let your heart heal." He smiled, pulling his arm back. "I can't bring you back to the ship to be pirates with me again if you're not better. So you have to get better."

"I don't know if I can," said Sanji.

"What, because some girl hurt you a bunch of years ago? Come on, Sanji, what does that matter? I'll kick her ass if you need me to!" The illusion cracked it's knuckles. "Anyone who hurts one of my friends and makes them cry can pay."

"I don't want you to kick her ass," said Sanji. "Most of this is my fault, anyways. I'm a slut."

"Yeah, I know."

"That's not helping!"

The hallucination shook its head. "But I don't CARE about that, because that isn't all there is to you. Usopp's more than just a liar, Zoro's more than just a drunk, Franky's more than just a robot . . . you're all my friends and that's what's important to me," said Luffy. He sat up a little, grinning. "Sanji, I want you to tell me about the day we first met. Tell me why I wanted you to join my crew."

"You needed a cook and I was the first one you attached yourself to?" Sanji said dryly.

Luffy sighed. "No. What were you doing right before I told you I wanted you in my crew?"

Sanji closed his eyes. "Feeding Ghin."

"Why?" asked Luffy. "He tried to attack your restaurant and got into a fight with your friend."

"Because he was starving, and he would have died. All he wanted was food," said Sanji.

"Did he pay you?"

"No, he didn't have any money," said Sanji. He was looking at the ground somberly. "I wouldn't have gotten in trouble with Zeff, but I threw his plate into the ocean when he was done. I can't stand to see people starve, even if they're an enemy – it's a pain that no one should have to go through. I know you get hungry but even you don't understand starvation."

"Yeah, probably not. But that's it – that's what made you different from the other cooks on the Baratie. Zeff, too, but he was never an option. You were the one who was cooking for the sake of being a cook, and for feeding hungry people, and that made you happy. I liked that. That's why you were the only one I wanted to be my cook."

"I always yelled at you for eating too much."

"You were trying to keep the crew safe – you were afraid of starving again. You didn't want anyone else to starve, either. You were protecting everyone – and I mean EVERYONE," said Luffy. "They mean more to you than you realize. You didn't want anyone to starve, not me, not Zoro, not anyone. You acted like you only cared about the girls but that was never true."

"How?"

"You saved Chopper from Foxy by putting aside your differences with Zoro, because you knew that was more important. You had to get Chopper back, and you couldn't risk losing someone else." The illusion started to stand up. "You tried to stop Usopp from leaving the crew in Water 7 – you tried to stop the fight because you didn't want to see us fall apart, and you didn't want to lose Usopp. Even after he was gone, you still helped him on the sea train, too," said Luffy. Sanji froze – he'd nearly forgotten about that. "And on Thriller Bark – you tried to stop Zoro from letting that bear guy hurt him. You and Zoro fight all the time, sure, but letting him die wasn't an option."

"And . . . and I saved everyone in Arabasta . . . from Crocodile . . . I saved you from drowning in Arlong Park . . . I sabotaged that flying ship in Skypiea, and got in the way of Usopp fighting a CP9 agent who would have killed him if he'd gotten a chance," said Sanji. He was shuddering. Maybe he was better at being a member of the crew than he realized.

"You're our friend, and we're you're friends. I'm glad you're trying to work on the day-to-day stuff with the guys in your band – and seriously, I can't wait to hear you sing, like, you and Brook should seriously do stuff together when you can come back home – but you were there when it counted. That's another thing I like about you, Sanji."

Sanji swallowed. "Luffy."

"I need you to do something for me, Sanji," said Luffy. "I need you to go see the big party guy."

"Big party?" asked Sanji, not sure what Luffy was talking about.

"You know, the doctor guy."

"You mean 'Gala'?" Sanji said dryly.

"Yeah, like a big party with lots of food!" said Luffy.

"Why do I need to go see Gala?" asked Sanji. "I'm not sick."

Luffy stared at him blankly. "You're an idiot."

"What?"

"You've been talking to an empty space for five minutes."

"But I-" Sanji paused, and saw that Luffy had vanished into thin air. He looked around, but saw no sign of his captain – real or imaginary. Sanji struggled to his feet and looked back towards the town, and the final piece of advice that the hallucination had given him. _If I'm still hallucinating, maybe I should talk to Gala . . ._

* * *

><p>Sanji left Gala's office a few hours later. There'd been a long talk, a few medical tests (including a few blood draws, but the doctor has used the smallest needles he had available and got them over and done with as quickly as possible), and a new prescription for some anti-hallucinatory drugs that might cut down on unwanted appearances by Kishido. "<em>Even though I normally don't advise my patients to listen to delusions, your captain was right – you did the right thing coming to me<em>," Gala had said.

After making it to their building, Sanji tried to gauge whether or not Nami was home. He frowned – it was still light out, so she wouldn't have the lights in their apartment on yet even if she was home. There'd be no way to tell until he got inside, so he let himself into the building and climbed the stairs to their floor, pondering the day's events with the bottle of pills clutched in his hand.

"So you're trying to get rid of me? Trying to put her in harm's way?"

Sanji had his key in their apartment door. He froze in place and clenched his eyes shut. He'd taken one of Gala's pills before leaving the doctor's office, and had been told it might be a few days before it really started to kick in. Which meant, if Kishido decided to pay him any visits, he was on his own. For the moment, Sanji chose to ignore the hallucination and let himself into the apartment.

Kishido was already inside, waiting for him. Sanji closed the door behind him, leaned against it, and glared. "You're going to be gone in a few days. Then I don't need to listen to you anymore. Got that?" he spat. Maybe indulging the hallucination wasn't the best way to handle it, but for the moment it was all he could think to do.

"Hmph."

Sanji focused on getting into the kitchen to start dinner. He looked in the fridge and frowned – oh, he had enough to feed the two of them no problem, but it all looked too . . . familiar. _Chicken. Didn't we have chicken last night . . . and the night before?_ He paused, confused. _How long have I been doing that?_

Sanji leaned back against the counter, then realized that, yes, it HAD been a lot of the same old thing over and over again. The same dishes and pots and pans were being washed over and over again because he hadn't been using anything else. He crossed his arms as he turned to look at his spice rack – his go-to favorites were almost empty, which was normal, but the others were eerily full of red and brown and black powders.

"It's just food," said Kishido. "Get over it."

No, no it wasn't just food – not to him. Sanji turned to glare at Kishido. "You're not part of me."

"What?"

"It's not 'just food'," said Sanji. "I'm a cook – it's never just food."

"And you're supposed to be chivalrous!" Kishido snapped.

"That, too." Sanji turned to Kishido and gave him a grin. "But I'm a lot of other things, too. I'm a pirate – even if I'm out of commission until my captain comes and gets me and Nami-san, it doesn't change who I am. I'm a dreamer, too, because someday I'm going to find the All Blue, and Nami-san is going to put it on her map of the world – we're going to complete our dreams together!"

Kishido looked taken aback. "So what?"

Sanji took a few steps forward. "You're not the same Kishido I saw on That Man's ship, are you? You're something different," he said slowly. "I don't know what you are, but that Kishido helped me and Nami-san escape. He pushed me forward to do what I had to do . . . but all you've been doing is holding me back."

"Of course I'm the same Kishido! What else would I be?"

"Everything that I'm trying to get away from," said Sanji. He closed his eyes. "I'm done running from things I can't change. I can't go back to before That Man made me eat a Devil Fruit and took my ability to swim and a year of my life. I can't go back to being the stupid virgin who fell for Deltana's little ploy. But you know what? I still have the power to move forward."

Kishido snorted. "Really now."

"The other Kishido pushed me to escape so I could live my life. Just like the time Zeff saved me from starvation, and like the time Luffy saved me from myself," said Sanji. He could feel his heart pounding. "You do not get to live my life for me. Deltana does not get to live my life for me. That Man doesn't get to live my life for me. The only person who gets to live my life is ME!"

"Idiot! So you're going to hurt her for what?"

Sanji glared back. "How exactly am I hurting her?"

"You'd only hold her back!" Kishido snapped. "You can't give her anything!"

Sanji could feel the doubts that had been plaguing him start to creep back into his train of thought, but then he caught a glimpse of their coffee table and saw the book of Imaki Imahara poems sitting there on the edge. "Maybe I can, maybe I can't . . . but that doesn't matter, does it?" He walked over to the table and picked up the book.

_Nami-san had me read this to calm down when I was nervous about Turnover's big debut,_ Sanji thought to himself. She'd been really worried about him the night before and all that morning, fussing over him like there was really something wrong. It was a small thing, but it was genuine. She cared that he was upset, and she knew how to help calm him down.

That was love. Even if it wasn't the kind of love Sanji thought he wanted from her, it was something. Lover or not, she was his best friend, and that meant something to him. It meant everything to him. He turned to face Kishido, who was starting to look like a little deranged. His armor and cape were disheveled, his hair was a mess, and his face and hands were now longer and bonier, like some sort of nightmare creature.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore. And I'm going to move on with my life. You can't hold me back."

And with that, the monster Kishido was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

><p>The following day, Sanji got an idea.<p>

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Well looks like Sanji's on the road to recovery but he's not QUITE there yet. Also he seems to be up to something and I'm sure you're all dying to know what that is.

Okay, so bad story-related news. I'm going to be rather busy for the next few weeks. There's that anime convention coming up, and I'm going on a little road trip, and my laptop, while working, is not travel worthy thanks to a nasty spill it took back in February (no, laptop, the floor is not your friend). There's a good chance there won't be a new chapter until after Memorial Day after the dust settles. It could happen sooner, but it's probably unlikely.

Dixxy


	24. Dr Arthur Gala

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Twenty-Three: Dr. Arthur Gala

Friday, July 2, was not starting off on the right foot.

For one, Nami had woken up alone – not that it seemed to matter much anymore. Sanji's mood seemed to shift a little about two weeks ago and everyone else was reporting that he seemed to be doing better, but she wasn't seeing it much at home. His cooking had started to get a little diverse again, but he seemed skittish around her and seemed to be even less interested in talking with her than he had been before. It hurt, but considering what had triggered his self-imposed isolation and knowing how he'd felt about her in the past, it sort of made sense. Ria, whom he was talking to, was an attractive woman, but Sanji had never fawned over the seamstress like the way he'd pined for her or Robin or Vivi or any of the other pretty girls they'd encountered during their travels together. With her, maybe he just needed a little more time.

She poked her head outside the room, wondering if Sanji was still home. The rest of the apartment was dark, and it didn't look like her roommate had been there long at all after waking. She frowned. Maybe Haralson needed him extra early at the Cider Mug and he hadn't had time to make coffee or toast or anything for breakfast.

Nami took one last look around their bedroom, and seeing the empty side of the bed where Sanji usually slept made her feel lonesome and melancholy. She could feel knots in her stomach, and Nami wasn't even sure she would be able to hold down breakfast that morning. She couldn't figure out why. She undressed, grabbed a towel, and headed into the bathroom to shower.

Once the water was on and she was under the steady stream, she realized that she'd forgotten to pick up shampoo and conditioner even though she'd been running low on it for a few days now. She swore and reached for Sanji's supply – it wasn't as if this was the first time they'd borrowed each other's soaps before, with Sanji occasionally smelling like apple blossoms or Nami smelling of musky mints and spices when it happened.

But of course this meant that a smell that reminded her of Sanji would be haunting her all day long today, something she didn't consider until she shut the water off and took a deep breath. She finished her bathroom routine (luckily her stock of toothpaste and mouthwash was still plentiful) and headed back to the bedroom to choose an outfit for the day.

She picked out a creamy yellow blouse and a long pink skirt and slipped her feet into a pair of white flats. Nami looked herself over in the mirror, trying to decide if she wanted her wig today or not. Her hair was getting longer, but still not long enough to cover the scar on the back of her neck – it was the wig or a scarf again for sure. She grabbed a silky white scarf with pink flowers on it, tied it around her neck, and went looking for her purse to head to work.

Things would only be going downhill from there.

* * *

><p>Nami was about halfway to town hall when she spotted some of the local boys playing some sort of ball game in a side lot. They looked her way and waved, smiling and shouting to get her attention. Nami paused and waved back. She didn't know their names, but it was nice to see that the people in town had gotten used to her and Sanji's presence, although her position as the mayor's assistant and his position as the front man in a band probably didn't hurt.<p>

"You look really pretty today, Miss Nami!" one of the boys called.

Nami blushed a little – even if it was from a group of rowdy boys, it was nice to be called "really pretty", especially on a day that she didn't exactly feel very wanted. Maybe it was a sign that today was starting to pick up a little. "Thanks, boys!" she called back. A chorus of mismatched responses resounded, and she smiled.

"Someday, I'm gonna marry a girl as pretty as Miss Nami!" one of the boys proclaimed.

"Yeah right, your face looks like a bug!" another shouted.

"Oh yeah, well your face looks like a _butt!_"

"Your face looks like a _donkey's butt!_"

The boys' game started to dissolve into a string of mean spirited insults, and Nami felt bad for being the catalyst. Seeing as she still had some time before she needed to be at town hall, she decided to try and play peacemaker with the boys. "Boys, boys! Knock it off!" she said, trying to separate them before it came to blows. "You're too young to be worrying about who you're going to marry and no one's face looks like dog poop!"

Unfortunately her words fell on deaf ears as one of the boys launched himself at one of the others. Nami cried out and tried to get between them, successfully taking the blow herself but it sent her careening into a nearby mud puddle. She cried out as she sunk into the muck and felt the twigs and rocks hiding within tear at her skin.

"Miss Nami!"

"You idiot, you're not supposed to hit women!"

"We are _so sorry_, Miss Nami! Please don't have us arrested, we didn't mean it!"

"Yeah, we're just stupid boys! Please forgive us!"

Nami slowly forced herself to sit up. Her body ached and she could feel the sting from her newly acquired cuts and bruises. Her hair was dripping with mud and twigs, and her outfit may as well have been ruined. She closed her eyes and tried to hold back sobs. Had this been on any other day, it wouldn't have bothered her. Hell, had it been before That Man took her and Sanji away from Luffy, she might have chased after the boys with her staff in hand and threatened to tear them all limb from limb. Instead, she was just trying to do anything, _anything_, to not cry.

"Boys! What the hell is going on here?!"

The boys all hung their heads as the shadow of Dr. Gala hovered over Nami. She looked up at the good doctor – he looked angry as he knelt down to help her to her feet. She knew he wasn't angry at her – after all, she was the one covered in mud – but it was still intimidating. "We're sorry, Dr. Gala – we didn't mean to push her," one of them said. "Honest."

"Your mothers will all be hearing from me by the end of the day – I'd suggest you all head home now and tell them what happened before I do. It might help cut down your punishments," the doctor said coolly. He threw one of Nami's arms around his shoulder. His voice softened as he turned to speak with her. "Are you all right to walk? I'm taking you back to my office to get you cleaned up and checked out."

"I need to get to work," Nami said somberly.

Gala shook his head. "Mac will understand – in fact, _you_," the doctor randomly selected one of the boys, "go to the mayor's office and tell Mac why Nami's going to be late today. Am I understood?" The boy nodded and scampered off towards town hall while the rest of the boys dispersed to reach their mothers before the doctor did.

"You didn't need to do that," Nami said.

The doctor shook his head, scooping Nami up in his arms. She protested, but the doctor wouldn't have it. "I'm not taking any chances with you until I'm sure you didn't twist an ankle or something. And those boys should know better than to be rough housing like that." He started to walk and Nami put her arms around his neck to hold on.

"Boys will be boys," she said.

"Well, yes, of course," said Dr. Gala, chuckling a little. "A little mud and a few scrapes is good for them, but dragging an unsuspecting bystander into it is unacceptable. This will probably be a good lesson learned for them, but for now you need to get cleaned up and checked out – you are not in a good position to get an infection, Nami."

Nami sighed and stayed quiet as they turned away from town hall and headed towards the doctor's home.

* * *

><p>For the most part, Dr. Gala made house calls when he treated her or Sanji, both before and after they'd arrived at the new apartment, so Nami had never actually seen the inside of his home before. They breezed past the living room (a humble affair with modest but well-matched furniture) and into a small examination room. It looked like a warmer version of the rooms they'd been experimented on in That Man's ship, and Nami whimpered.<p>

Gala shook his head. "You know I'm not going to hurt you," he said, putting Nami down in a chair instead of on the table. He went over to a cabinet and pulled out a large, soft looking blanket that he draped over the steel examination table. "Will that help?" Nami examined it, and slowly nodded. Satisfied, Gala helped her out of the chair and hoisted her onto the table before beginning to search for something to clean her up with.

Nami looked around the room. It wasn't as bad as she originally thought – the walls were painted a soft baby blue color and there were framed pictures of cherry blossom trees against snowy backdrops. It was different from what she usually saw around the island. Most of the residents accented their homes with décor that called back to the island's name, so the pink sakura petals were a taste of something a little different. She continued to look around, and then her eyes caught something that took her by surprise.

There was a small bookshelf in the corner, mostly containing a collection of casual reading likely meant for Gala's patients to use while waiting to be seen. There were children's picture books and collections of poetry (including Sanji's favorite Imaki Imahara collection) and a hodge podge of other easy to digest material. But what caught her attention was the décor sitting on top of the shelf, and it made her eyes widen in surprise.

It was a snow globe.

And inside were the Drum Rockies.

"Are you all right?" asked Gala. Nami turned to the doctor and saw he had filled a basin with soapy water and was holding a wash cloth. The doctor gently took her hand and started to dab the now caked mud off her skin. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you sure you're okay in here? Should we move somewhere else?"

"That snow globe . . ." said Nami.

Gala paused in his washing. "It's not from around here."

"I know. Those are the Drum Rockies."

The doctor chuckled softly, but his voice was tinged with sorrow. "So you've heard of them."

"I've been there before. I'd have died if I – OW!"

"Sorry!" said Gala. "You got a nasty cut there."

"It's okay, but now I want to know," said Nami, looking at the doctor in a whole new light. "Are you originally from there?" she asked. Gala didn't answer her, and Nami looked him up at down as he quietly (and more gently) worked on cleaning around the wound on her arm. She felt a pit in her stomach. "You are from Drum, aren't you?"

Gala closed his eyes. "Not originally," he said. "I was born in the South Blue – a place called Rose Ring Island. It was a beautiful island with roses growing everywhere, but when I was ten, right around the age of the boys who did this to you, something terrible happened. Our island was struck by a terrible plague and the doctors on our island couldn't do anything to help – at least half of them died from it themselves."

"That sounds awful," Nami said.

The doctor swallowed. "The plague took my parents, and it wasn't long before I was stricken as well. I thought I was going to join them, and then he showed up. . ."

* * *

><p><em>Many years ago, Rose Ring Island . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em> Bobby was tired, achy, and nauseous. He felt miserable, and he wondered if this feeling was what made everyone on the island give up so easily in their fight against the plague. He closed his eyes and stayed in his bed in what was once a library but was now a quarantine center for those afflicted with the illness. His roommates, an old married couple, hadn't move in a while and he was beginning to wonder if they'd succumbed to the disease.<em>

_ It made him a little jealous – at least they weren't suffering anymore. If anything they looked almost peaceful. But he hated them a little bit, too. They'd gotten to live long lives before the plague came to town. He knew the old man had been a high ranking Marine officer, and the old woman had been a prize winning botanist who'd settled on the island to cultivate the roses. Their hands were still clasped together, and Bobby didn't doubt they'd been in love._

_ He'd never get any of that. He was just a kid. He'd never see the world or make anything of himself. No, the life of Robert Birdman would be forgotten over the years, nothing more than a name on a gravestone. His parents were already dead and buried and he had no other family to speak of, so he couldn't even look forward to being missed._

_ It wasn't fair._

_ There was a knock on the door. Bobby didn't move. He didn't care._

_ "Hello?" The door squeaked open, and a man in a white lab coat stepped inside. Bobby turned his head – a doctor, no doubt, but this one he didn't recognize. He'd seen all of the doctors on the island before, and all they'd done was try to ease his suffering, telling him not to be afraid and that they were going to make him comfortable. He had no reason to believe this man would be any different._

_ The new doctor approached his bed, looking past him at the bed with the old married couple. "Are they still alive?" he asked._

_ Bobby shook his head. "I don't think so," he said._

_ The doctor drifted over to the couple to confirm this. He shook his head. "Their bodies have gone cold," he said. "They've been dead for at least a few hours." The doctor returned to Bobby's bedside and rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. "So let me treat you," he said._

_ "What good will that do? I'm dying," said Bobby._

_ "Not on my watch." The doctor felt his forehead and clucked his tongue. "I've seen this before. It's a nasty disease, I'll give you that, but it's not untreatable." Bobby turned his head to the doctor, not believing what he was hearing. "The disease travels by insect and is most commonly found in the Grand Line. My colleagues and I suspect that your island recently had a trade ship or a pirate ship arrive here some time ago – if they had any of those insects on board, that would explain how the illness got here."_

_ Bobby remembered the ship in question – there was a merchant ship that had arrived carrying perfumes and textiles from the Arabasta Kingdom. His mother had been particularly excited for the scents and been among the first to the docks to purchase some. He swallowed. "So it's the ship's fault my mom and dad are dead?"_

_ The doctor paused and shook his head. "I doubt they would have brought this on the island intentionally." He bent down and put a black bag on the bed, then produced a vial of liquid and a syringe. "I come from an island were medicine is widely researched and taught – I suspect we're among the best in the world when it comes to curing disease. Several of us were conducting a seminar on an island not too far from here and heard about the trouble this island was in. We decided to see what we could do to help. And based on what we've seen, we can."_

_ Bobby's eyes widened. "I'm not going to die?"_

_ The doctor laughed and ruffled his hand through his hair. "Not today."_

_ The boy could feel his eyes begin to swell with tears. "Thank you, doctor . . . doctor . . ."_

_ "Dr. Gala. Dr. Arthur Pendleton Gala."_

* * *

><p><em> About a week later, Bobby was feeling much better. He still had a slight cough, but he was up and around, bringing food and water to those who were still recovering from the illness. Dr. Gala and his colleagues (Dr. Barton, Dr. Rogers, Dr. Romanov, Dr. Stark, and Dr. Odinson)<em> _seemed impressed with his willingness to help and gave him some additional guidance in keeping his neighbors comfortable._

_ "You seem to be taking to this quite well," Dr. Gala quipped one night. Bobby, the doctors, and a few of the other islanders who'd been trying to help were gathered for dinner, and the boy had taken a seat at the table next to his favorite of the island's visitors. "Perhaps even more so than the adults have. Your parents must be proud."_

_ Bobby frowned, looking at his plate glumly. "My parents died before you got here," he said._

_ Dr. Gala rubbed Bobby's shoulder. "I'm sorry we didn't get here in time."_

_ "It isn't your fault," said Bobby, moving his food around in disinterest. "You didn't know about it until a bunch of people had already died. You couldn't have known."_

_ "Well, where are you going to go next?"_

_ "I don't know. Don't have any family, and most of our friends died in the plague, too." He paused, then looked up at Dr. Gala. "Can I stay with you?"_

_ Dr. Gala seemed surprised. "What?"_

_ "Teach me medicine!" said Bobby. "I want to be a doctor, too!" His eyes widened, and the more he thought about it the more excited he got. "If I become a great doctor like you, then I can prevent something like this from happening on another island, can't I? I'll study real hard and help as many people as I can!"_

_ Dr. Gala looked at him stoically. "I'm going to need to make sure that it's okay to bring you along back home to Drum Kingdom. My colleagues will need to be okay with having another mouth to feed, and even if your family is gone someone here has to give us the okay before we can just run off with you, you know what I mean?"_

_ Bobby threw his arms around the doctor, nearly sobbing into his shoulder. "Thank you, thank you!"_

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

* * *

><p>"He adopted me before we left the island," said Gala. "He and his wife wanted children, but they were having trouble conceiving. Boy was she surprised when her husband came home with a child in tow." He sighed. "It took a while – I think she was upset her husband went and adopted a kid without her involvement – but before long she accepted me and we were a family until they passed away about nine years ago."<p>

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you," said Gala. He closed his eyes. "It was a disease even the doctors of Drum Kingdom hadn't encountered before. I had already moved out and on my own so I was spared infection, but it was still devastating to me, although the last thing that they said to me was that they were proud of me and wanted me to know they believed I had grown up to be a good doctor."

They were quiet for a few minutes, Nami too afraid to voice a question she had about how the doctor ended up here on Apple Island. He sounded like he loved Drum and the family he'd found there, which meant there was only one reason and one reason alone he would have left it all behind him, and it made her stomach churn. "So then, when you left . . . was it because of Wapol?"

Gala's eyes darkened. "So you know about that, huh?"

"I was treated by Dr. Kureha and her apprentice," said Nami. "They were the only doctors left on the island when we arrived." She put her hand on her stomach. "I'd been bitten by a bug long thought extinct, and I got really sick. We didn't have a doctor at the time, my crew started to look for an island with one and we ended up on Drum. Luffy and Sanji-kun brought me to her, and the trip nearly killed the two of them, too. But we all made it."

Gala snorted. "So the old woman avoided Wapol for a long time, huh?"

"Wapol had abandoned the island about a year earlier and took the 20 Surgeons with him," Nami said bitterly. Gala turned to her with wide, fearful eyes. Nami frowned. "They were attacked by a pirate crew and he fled like a coward. When we got there his old captain of the guards, Dalton, had more or less taken over running the island."

"He was a good man – I'm glad to hear that he stayed," said Gala. "As for Wapol . . ."

"He tried to come back, but, well, Luffy has a habit of getting involved in the affairs of the islands we visit and kind of kicked his ass to kingdom come. I doubt he'll be back again. The 20 surgeons and most of Wapol's guards abandoned him after that, and I'm pretty sure Dalton was volunteered to take over as the island's new leader – not that I think he wanted it, but he loves the people there and perhaps felt it was his duty to protect them." Nami turned to Gala and smiled. "That means you can probably go back home if you wanted to, Gala."

"I can't, though I'm happy to hear Wapol is gone and the island is doing better now," said Gala.

"Why can't you go home?"

"Well, for one, I'm the only doctor on this island – I have a few students, but they're still years away from being able to practice on their own," said Gala. "But even without that, it would be impossible for me to go back there now. Not after what happened."

"What happened?" asked Nami.

"Well, like several other doctors, including Dr. Kureha, we tried to hide from Wapol's men to help those who couldn't seek help from the 20 Surgeons. Most of us had finshed in the top 30 – I myself was ranked 22nd – and were still among the best on the island. But little by little our numbers dwindled, and when I was finally caught I chose to be set adrift, thinking that if I was lucky I would be picked up by a Marine ship or land on an island to get help. A small chance is better than none, after all," said Gala. By now Nami had been cleaned up and Gala was working on disinfecting and bandaging her wounds.

"So why can't you go home?"

"Because I landed on the wrong island at the wrong time. I sought an audience with the magistrate in charge of the island, but as it turns out his son had made some very, very bad decisions that resulted in some poor girl ending up dead AND this man was a good friend of Wapol's," Gala said. "Instead of squealing on his friend to the World Government and watching his son hang, he decided to put the blame on me instead."

Nami's eyes widened. "He framed you for MURDER?!"

"Yes. I never even met the girl and suddenly I was the monster who killed her. Of course I proclaimed my innocence, but no one wanted to believe the outsider when their beloved magistrate was ensuring them they'd caught the miserable bastard who'd done it. I spent about a week in jail awaiting my demise, but on the day of the execution, well, I suppose you could say I caught a lucky break . . ."

* * *

><p><em>Seven years ago . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em>"Kill the bastard!"<em>

_ "Take his head!"_

_ Gala wanted to scream back at the crowd as he was led to the gallows, but knew it wouldn't do any good. He knew how this worked. Guilty men who knew they were guilty screamed they were innocent all the time, and there was little he could do to prove his own. Like it or not, he was going to be executed for a crime he didn't commit, all to protect the monster ruling over his beloved Drum Island and the monster who'd really killed that poor girl._

_ They were only about one hundred yards from the platform, and he could see the glint of the executioner's axe. He gulped, twisting his wrists about in their bindings. Beheading. That was to be his ultimate fate. All of the hard word he'd put in studying to become a doctor, all of the disease he'd cured and the babies he'd helped birth and the elderly he'd made comfortable in their final days and hours, all of it meant nothing now. Now he was nothing but a criminal to these people._

_ The walk felt like it was taking an eternity, but once his foot ascended the first step it felt as if it had all happened in an instant, and his legs buckled under him. The crowd roared and the guards yelled at him to get to his feet, but he was frozen in fear and panic. He shouldn't be here. He didn't belong here. He didn't deserve to be here! He was innocent, and he threw his head back to yell at the sky._

_ "I DIDN'T DO IT! I'M A DOCTOR! I SAVE LIVES! I'VE NEVER TAKEN ONE!"_

_ The crowd booed him as the guards ripped him from the steps and onto his feet, shoving him forward to the chopping block and the executioner. They shoved him into position, and he could see the magistrate and his monster of a son sitting on a platform about twenty yards away. He snarled – not a hint of remorse could be seen on either of their faces. They would sleep well that night, he thought, because his life, the lives of the people of Drum Kingdom, and the life of that poor girl meant nothing to them. _

_ He closed his eyes, waiting for the end._

_ It didn't come._

_ Instead he could hear the crowd screaming, but they weren't screaming for his blood. He opened his eyes and saw the crowd dispersing, a group of rough and tumble looking men chasing after them with cutlasses and clubs. He looked to the side and saw a man with a graying black ponytail fighting off the executioner and a rotund man eating a leg of meat with one hand while he held off the guards with the gun in his other hand. _

_ A third man approached him, and Gala felt his throat go dry. A one armed man in a black cloak with three scars over his left eye and the unmistakable mane of red atop his head. Those men in the crowd and up on the execution platform with him were pirates. Pirates sailing under the flag of one of the Four Emperors._

_ Red Haired Shanks._

_ Shanks knelt before him, a grin on his face. "I believe you," he said._

_ Gala swallowed. "You do?"_

_ "Yeah, I do. You any good?"_

_ Gala was afraid to answer, but nodded. _

_ Shanks grinned. "Want to get out of here?"_

_ Gala wasn't given a choice – a third man, this one with blonde dreadlocks dressed in a starry cape, had hoisted him over his shoulder. "Captain, let's get out of here!"_

_ "You didn't let him answer!" said Shanks._

_ It all started to sink in. If he wanted to live, he needed to go with these pirates. He'd sort it out later. If he stayed here, he wouldn't have a later to sort it all out with. "I'll go, I'll go!" he said. "Get me out of here!" Shanks grinned and led his men off the execution platform, taking the condemned doctor with them._

* * *

><p><em> Some hours later, after he'd been fed and cared for by Shanks' personal doctor, he was called into the captain's quarters for a meeting. Nervous, but still grateful for his life, Gala let the first mate (Benn Beckman) lead him to one of the four pirates said to rule over the New World like an emperor. Benn stopped outside of the door. "Shanks would like to speak with you in private," he said.<em>

_ "All right," said Gala, his palms sweating as he knocked. Benn left him, and once the knock had sounded he could hear the voice of the surprisingly chipper pirate ask him to come in. The doctor fumbled with the door knob for a few moments before stepping inside, where Shanks was looking at him in amusement, a stein of alcohol in hand._

_ "I've got some for you, too – don't worry, it's not poisoned or anything, I kind of need you alive," said Shanks, gesturing to the short table he was seated on the floor next to. Gala looked around – the whole room looked much more . . . casual . . . than he would have pictured. Shanks was one of the Four Emperors – he expected gold plated chairs and piles of treasure and big mahogany desks with maps and navigational equipment. Instead it was a fairly humble room with several shelves lined with alcohol, a simple bed with plain bedding, and large cushions on the floor for seating. Gala took the spot across from Shanks and took a whiff of the alcohol._

_ "It's from my home island – its good stuff. Try it!"_

_ Gala closed his eyes and knocked back a mouthful while Shanks watched in glee. It was strong, but sweet – the emperor was right, it was pleasant. He put the stein down and turned his attention back to Shanks. "Thank you for saving my life back there, but I need to know – why did you save me? What could a man like you possibly want with a man like me?"_

_ Shanks' eyes lowered. "One of the reasons they call me one of the Four Emperors is that I've claimed several islands on both sides of the Grand Line as my territory. They fly my flag and give me access to some of their goods, usually for free but sometimes at a discount, in exchange for my protection. But one of my islands is in a kind of trouble I can't protect them from."_

_ Gala remembered the words he'd shouted from the base of the platform. "They're sick."_

_ "Very. About a year ago they were attacked by pirates and a bunch of people got killed, including two out of the island's three doctors. For a while just having one doctor was fine, but something nasty hit the island a few weeks ago and despite his best efforts, he and several others have succumbed to the disease, but there are still more who are very sick. My doctor is willing to help, of course, but he's never seen this disease before. That's why we need a good doctor – I need someone to help the islanders, and, if possible, stay on to help them in the future."_

_ It was a heavy proposition. On the one hand, Gala couldn't ignore that there was an island full of sick people who needed his help and, worse off, without a doctor in sight. But on the other . . . what of Drum Kingdom? What about Wapol? He looked at Shanks, wondering if he should ask for his help, but then wondered if that would bring more harm to the island than it would good._

_ No. He couldn't ask Shanks for help. He'd already saved his life, and the mess of bringing an emperor back to the island probably would cause some kind of chaos on the island. Besides, by now the magistrate had probably already contacted the Marines about the "escaped killer" and he suspected he'd have a bounty on his head soon enough. _

_ There really wasn't a choice in the matter. Bring trouble back home, or make a new home where he might be able to do some good. He closed his eyes and nodded. "All right. I'll help you."_

_ Shanks was beaming. "All right! Let's get drunk to celebrate!"_

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

* * *

><p>"I've been here ever since. I've got a bounty of about five million on my head, but being here on Apple Island? I've never had a problem with it. Most people don't even know about it, and even those who do are inclined to believe me and Shanks about my innocence," said Gala. He sat down. "I'm glad to hear Drum has been saved though, even if it took seven years for it to happen. I suppose I owe your captain a personal debt."<p>

Nami reached over and patted Gala's shoulder. "Sanji-kun and I are alive because you helped us. Luffy will probably see that as 'debt paid' even though I don't think things like that really matter much to him," she said. "I've heard that everyone who's come here since Shanks took over has got a sad story to tell."

Gala smiled, but his eyes were still filled with sadness. "And now you know mine."

"You sure you don't want to at least try and visit your old home? I'm sure Dalton and the others will understand what happened," said Nami, looking over the dressings on her injuries – Gala always did excellent work, and these were no exception. "You must still have friends there. They have to believe you, right? They hated Wapol, too."

"Maybe someday, buy for now my place is here on Apple Island. I'm needed here, and leaving now wouldn't be a good idea, bounty or no bounty. Remember, I'm the only doctor here – I'm not in a position to just up and leave for a trip back home right now," he said. He helped Nami to her feet. "Thank you for telling me about the island's fate. It's given me some peace of mind."

"Of course, Gala." Nami gave him a hug, and the doctor squeezed back.

"You should be fine to go to work – I'll send you my bill later," Gala said with a wink after letting Nami go. "Although consider some of it paid up front – peace of mind like the kind you just gave me can't be paid for in silver and gold." Nami's eyes widened but the doctor shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you tonight."

Nami was about to leave before pausing and turning to Gala in confusion. "Tonight?"

"Hmm?" the doctor looked at her.

"You said you'd see me tonight."

Gala's eyes widened. "Oh, um, did I? Er, must have been a slip of the tongue. My apologies."

Nami felt a nagging suspicion that something was up. "Okay, Gala," she said slowly, not sure she believed him. She threw her purse over her shoulder (now ruined from the mud) and composed herself, smiling as she waved on her way out. "I'll see you around, Gala. Take care of yourself."

"You as well, Nami," the doctor said with a smile.

He still looked like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

* * *

><p>Mac was more worried about her than concerned she was late, but Nami insisted she was fine – just a little less put together than she would have liked because of the mud. "Should I run home and get changed?" she asked.<p>

Mac shook his head a bit too quickly. "No, no, it's fine, accidents happen."

"You sure?"

"Please stay here."

Nami nodded, but found that Mac seemed to be struggling to come up with things for her to do before he finally left a half hour early and told her to stay until five, just in case someone came in looking for something. Nami shrugged and waved goodbye to the mayor, wondering what was up with him that afternoon.

About five minutes of five, Ria came in. "Hey, sugah, I heard you had some excitement today."

"Yeah, but I'm okay now," said Nami, showing off her bandaged arms. "What are you in for this evening?"

"Oh, just wanted to visit and see how you were doing," she said. Nami looked Ria up and down and raised an eyebrow. The seamstress, being someone who worked in the fashion business, was always well put together, but today she seemed a little bit . . . more put together than usual. She was in a red dress with a cowl neck and a gold chain belt hanging around her waist with a red leather clutch in one hand. There were red and gold pumps on her feet and gold bangles on her wrists, a pair of dangling gold earrings hanging from her ears.

"You're awfully dressed up," said Nami.

"I felt like it," Ria said casually, looking at her nails (which were painted red). "You, on the other hand, kind of look like hell. Let me bring you back to the shop and get you dolled up in something nicer, sugah. After the day you've had you could use it. Sometimes I feel a lot better when my bra and panties are matching and I've got a killer outfit on."

"I don't need to know about your bra and panties," said Nami.

Ria smirked. "White with pink and red flowers on them."

Nami groaned. "I said I didn't want to know-"

"No, you said you didn't _need_ to know," said Ria. She looked at the clock. "You off at five?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Let me help you get the office cleaned up."

"I haven't had anything to do – I'm good to go once I've grabbed my purse," said Nami.

"Ah, okay," said Ria. "Then at five we can scoot."

"Ria, it's fine, I just need to run home and get a shower-"

"Oh, and is something wrong with my shower?" She sniffed the air. "You borrowed Sanji's soap again, I can smell it on you. I've got some green tea infused body wash that will get you all nice and relaxed, and then I'm playing dress up with you. The girls are away on a sleep-over tonight and I'm going to go stir crazy if I have to spend any more time home alone than I need to."

"Ria . . ."

Ria leaned over the desk, a pout on her face. "Please? I want to try out a new dress pattern."

Nami sighed. "All right, fine."

Ria popped back up and clapped her hands. "Yay! We'll get you a matching bra and panty set while we're at it! Ooo, and some cute shoes, and I'll do something cute with your hair, and . . ." Nami tuned Ria out, wondering what the hell had gotten her friend so excited about this new dress pattern. She shrugged, saw the clock reading five, and followed the chattering seamstress out of town hall.

* * *

><p>It was a gorgeous dress and fit Nami like a glove.<p>

It was royal blue, with a silky satin bodice and a brocade skirt with delicate pink flowers and winding green vines. A sky blue sash separated the two halves of the dress, and there were layers of pale blue under the skirt to give it a little volume. For her hair, Ria had done it up in a bun with silver, pink, and green barrettes and tied a blue silk scarf around her neck. She had matching flats on her feet, and because the seamstress insisted, Nami had matching blue undergarments with white lace trim underneath it all.

"You look stunning," said Ria.

"Thank you," said Nami. "But isn't this a bit much?"

"Don't be silly!" said Ria. "I happen to have a great idea. Let's run back to your apartment – I want to take you for a night on the town, but we should probably let Sanji know where you're going so he doesn't have a panic attack." Nami looked at her with a pout. "I know, I know, he's being a little distant but he still probably worries about you. Besides, you look cute."

"Is something going on? You, Gala, and Mac are all acting strange today," said Nami.

Ria shrugged. "Hell if I know. I want drinkies."  
>"I can't have 'drinkies'," Nami replied dryly<p>

"Then you can have apple juice. Now come on, let's go!"

Nami was still suspicious, but shook her head and followed the seamstress outside.

* * *

><p>The lights in their apartment were on, but dimmed. Nami frowned – it looked like Sanji was home, but the lighting was a bit off. "Weird," Nami said, reaching into her purse (a new blue one Ria had given her since her other purse had been destroyed by the mud incident) for the keys to her apartment. "Looks like Sanji-kun's home but he's got the lights all funky."<p>

Ria shrugged. "I'm sure it's fine."

"Really? With the way he's been acting for the last six weeks?" asked Nami.

"At least he's been playing nice with everyone else for the last two – it's probably only a matter of time before he goes up to you and goes 'Hey, Nami, I know I've been a bit of a butt for the last few weeks and I am sorry. Please forgive me. I baked you a pie, now you have to forgive me. Please? Pretty please?' and you'll forgive him and things will be better."  
>"Sanji-kun doesn't talk like that," said Nami.<p>

"You know what I mean, and you can still probably get pie out of the deal." Nami opened the door and led Ria into the lobby. "Maybe the dress will get his attention and it'll snap him out of it. I think we broke a couple of necks on our way here, anyways." Nami looked back at Ria in concern, who just put her hands on her hips and grinned. "Come on."

They went up the stairs to the third floor, Ria chattering away at Nami about how the twins and her shop were doing before they finally stopped outside of the apartment door. There were no lights coming from under the crack, and for a moment Nami was concerned. Had Sanji left? There was a back door by the laundry room – maybe he was avoiding her today and that was why he'd left the apartment so early. She paused, looking at her keys somberly.

"Sugah?"

Nami looked at Ria with a pout. "The lights are off now."

Ria sighed. "Now you're being paranoid."

Nami sighed and stuck the key in the door. The door clicked open and she opened it, only to be greeted by darkness. Her heart sunk. Sanji really wasn't home after all. "Look, maybe we should just-" Nami started before Ria gave her a gentle shove inside, giggling and smirking in some sort of bizarre satisfaction. "Ria! What the hell are you-"

The lights came on with no warning.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NAMI!"

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

And we're back. For those who were asking, the road trip went very poorly. My grandmother doesn't like to be anywhere for without her car, and because of her age and health, we don't want her driving across country alone so someone usually goes with her. This time I was the escort and, well, we had bad things happen at LEAST once a day.

The convention (Anime Boston) was enjoyable, although it looks like it'll likely be my last con for a short while (I have one in the fall but I should have beaten the cancer by then – fingers crossed!).

Gala's back story was hinted at shortly after Shanks chased off Tesla, in the line about his being more loyal to Shanks than his own king, which was a direct dig at Wapol. Dr. Arthur Gala's colleagues were named after several of the Avengers (a Dr. Banner seemed too obvious so I didn't include one).

Cancer update: Had another pet scan and although the tumor didn't do as much shrinking, it sounds like its entirely dead tissue at this point. I'm expecting chemo to be done late July and radiation to begin a month later. Overall a good report, just not as good as the last one.

-Dixxy


	25. Birthday Girl

Mass x Acceleration  
>By Dixxy Mouri<br>Chapter Twenty-Four: Birthday Girl

Nami was stunned as she stood in the door frame of her apartment, and it slowly dawned on her. Her birthday, or at least the day she'd always celebrated it, was the next day. Suddenly, everyone's odd behavior was making sense. Gala (who was standing in the living room) slipped that he'd be seeing her that night because he knew about the party. Mac (who was sitting at the kitchen table) had to keep her at work because, presumably, the party was being set up in the apartment. And Ria (who had snuck in from behind her) dragged her to get cleaned up because, well, she needed to be cleaned up for one thing, and two, it probably gave the party planners the remaining time they needed to get everything set up.

Someone spun her to the left and pulled her into a hug, and she almost started to cry when she realized it was Sanji. "Happy birthday, Nami-san," he said quietly. Nami closed her eyes and returned the hug, having a hard time believing he was really holding her. She buried her head in his shoulder, trying very hard not to cry. The party was more than enough, but Sanji hugging her?

There were other guest there, too. She saw Braeburn and the rest of Sanji's band, as well as the girls from Ria's shop, and as few other casual acquaintances they'd made from around the island. She pulled back from Sanji, who was smiling at her. "Did you plan all this?" she asked quietly. Sanji nodded. "Sanji-kun, I . . ."

Sanji put his finger to her lips. "Do you remember your last birthday? We talked about this, and I wanted to make it a reality," he said. Nami closed her eyes and started to remember that conversation in the holding cell, when they talked about this theoretical birthday party. _"When we get out of here I'll make sure you have an awesome birthday."_

"I can't believe you did all this for me," she said. She looked down at herself. "The dress."

_"What color is my dress?"_

_ "What color do you want it to be?"_

_ "Blue. And a white flower in my hair."_

_ "Is it a rose?"_

_ "No . . . maybe a lily."_

Sanji produced a white lily and tucked it behind her ear. "I couldn't find a tangerine blossom."

"No, this is more than I could have asked for," she said, giving him another hug. She opened her eyes and saw the guests waiting on them. "Oh. Oh!" She backed away from Sanji, bowing to her guests. "Thank you all so much for coming. I, um, really don't know what to say."

Gala chuckled. "Don't worry about it – we're here because we want to be."

Everyone else joined in the chorus (except for Darryl, who just smiled and gave her a hug) and Nami felt more than a little humbled, giving everyone a thank you for attending as she drew closer and closer to tears of joy and gratitude. Sanji stayed by her side, keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn't break down completely.

Maybe, just maybe, she finally had the old Sanji-kun back.

* * *

><p><em>"Thank you, Sanji-kun, but you don't have to do that for me."<em>

_ "You're right, I don't – but I want to. We'll have cake and ice cream and friends and we'll just have a good time. We don't need to have a giant blow out – just a fun evening. I want to hear you laugh and see you smile, and you should wear a pretty party dress that makes you feel like a princess."_

They'd already sung "Happy Birthday" and gotten into the cake and ice cream Sanji had prepared for the occasion. The cake was soft and moist, and the ice cream was rich and creamy and sweet. Ria asked Sanji and Nami if they minded her saving a couple of pieces for the twins (which Sanji responded to by producing a pair of cupcakes he'd make specially for them). The other guests were chatting away as they enjoyed the snack.

Everyone, that is, but Braeburn.

Nami broke away from the pack to see what the blacksmith was up to, and saw that he was setting up a record player. "Braeburn?" she asked innocently. "Aren't you going to have cake and ice cream?"

"Made by Sanji? That son of a bitch has made me put on at least ten pounds since he got here – you couldn't keep me away from a _cake_ he made," he said with a laugh. "I'll be over there to get a slice . . . or three . . . in a minute. But right now I'm getting everything set up for some music and dancing," he said. He grinned. "I asked Sanji if he wanted Turnover to perform, but he said he promised you a dance or two, so . . ."

_"Would there be music?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "And dancing?"_

_ "Sure."_

_ "Would you dance with me at the party? And if you did, what kind of a dance would it be? Formal and slow like a waltz, or something like a tango? Or would you have more than one spot on your dance card reserved for me?"_

_ "I think so. I mean . . . we're close now, aren't we? Why wouldn't we dance? After all, it's hard for you, too. You need to have fun at the party as well. I couldn't have fun if I thought you weren't."_

_ "If you want me to have fun, I'll make sure I have fun. Okay?" _

"He thought of everything," said Nami.

"Well, when he started to snap out of his little funk a couple of weeks ago he pretty much immediately started to get all this put together," said Braeburn. "He's been pretty busy with it. I think it's pretty safe to say that you mean the world to him and he wants to see you happy." Nami blushed and the blacksmith grinned. "You go mingle with your guests – I have some furniture to move out of the way. Let me know what you want me to play when we're ready, okay?"

Nami nodded, giving Braeburn a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before returning to the other guests for more cake and ice cream.

* * *

><p>A lot of people wanted to have a dance with Nami, and she was bounced around from one partner to the next. Jimmy and Darryl preferred up beat, fast dances. Braeburn taught her a line dance, and Ria stepped in before Gala could ask her to dance a tango (she was really good at it, too). Mac joined her for a polite minuet, and the doctor finally got to take her for a spin through a folk song.<p>

Finally, Nami found herself in Sanji's arms for a slow dance. She rested her head on his shoulder and let him lead her through the dance, neither of them saying a word. It was a precious moment to her, and just being this close to him made her feel at ease. As fun as dancing with everyone else had been, no one made her feel this emotional. Part of her felt a little more whole again – he was here, he was okay, and he wasn't avoiding her after all – he'd been party planning (or at least that's what he'd been doing for the last two weeks or so).

It also made her miss the other Straw Hats. When they'd talked about the party, their friends on Apple Island, although precious to them now, were not the ones they'd fantasized about. No, the ones they really missed were Brook and Franky and Robin and Chopper and Usopp and Zoro and Luffy – especially Luffy. It pained her to think about it, and she clung to Sanji tighter.

The song ended, and Braeburn asked to cut in for another folk song. Nami gave Sanji a weak smile, and could have sworn she saw a look of yearning in his eyes as he let go of her hand. Her heart skipped a beat and wondered what it meant as the next song began and she danced with the blacksmith. But unlike the last time, this didn't feel right.

She should have been dancing with Sanji.

* * *

><p>Sanji was relieved Nami was having a good time.<p>

_Why wouldn't she have a good time at a party thrown for her?_

"May I have a dance, too, sugah?"

The cook felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Ria smiling behind him. Sanji nodded and took the seamstress' hands. Although most of the planning had been on his shoulders, Ria had muscled in with a bit more help than he'd originally wanted (but soon realized he desperately needed). "Thank you for all your help with this," he said calmly. "She's having a great time."

"Not a problem – it's kind of for both of you," Ria said. "Twirl me."

Sanji twirled her around a bit, but wasn't sure he understood. "How is this party for me?"

Ria snorted. "You were a bit of a zombie for a while. Even the girls noticed it."

"They did?"

"They said they asked you about it and you kept saying you were 'fine' but here's the thing, Sanji – kids, even ones Wendy and Sundae's age, aren't stupid. Everyone saw it, sugah," said the seamstress. "Dip me." Sanji complied, going a bit too low for Ria's liking, and she sighed after he brought her back up. "I said 'dip me', not 'drop me' – I'm a lady, and don't you forget that."

"Oh, sorry," he said. "It's been a while since I've danced like this."

Ria rolled her eyes. "Anyways, you seem happier again. Nami seems happier, too."

Sanji closed his eyes. "I've been an idiot around her."

"Yeah, you have been."

Sanji winced. "Don't stop to think about it, now."

The seamstress snorted. "Now, when do I think about anything I saw, sugah?"

"Fine, but . . . do you think I can make it up to her?" Sanji swallowed. "I don't know what I'd do without her. Ria, what if I messed things up?" The idea of having ruined his friendship with Nami terrified him. They're been through so much together and gotten so close, it would be like losing a part of himself.

Ria winked at him. "Of course you can. You're off to a good start with the party."

"I don't think that's enough. I've been so wrapped up feeling sorry for myself I-"

"Save it," said the redhead, placing a finger to his lips. "Tell HER all this stuff. Not me."

Sanji nodded – she had a point. "Right. You're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now throw me in the air and catch me."

"No."

Ria smirked. "Did I say 'please'?"

"I'm sorry. 'Hell no'."

The seamstress laughed.

* * *

><p>There was a course of hot appetizers – as well as fruit – after the dancing. Sanji was busy in the kitchen managing those, but promised Nami he'd spend time with her once they were all taken care of. She understood, and was fine with it – food was his brightest passion, and even seeing him bustling in their kitchen made her feel more and more like the cook was going to be okay.<p>

_"What's on the menu?"_

_ "Hmm, that's a good question. We'll definitely need to have fruit because you love fruit, but I don't think we should do anything crazy fancy – no duck or anything like that. Something casual and relaxed, give everyone a chance to cut loose a little. So we can all have a good time. Nothing uptight."_

Ria took a seat next to her on the couch with a plate of strawberries, apples, and a cream cheese fruit dip. "Sorry I had to lie to you earlier, but they needed more time to get everything set up and I had to get you into your dress. Besides, you needed the shower after the incident from earlier today." She dipped a strawberry into the dip and put damn near the whole thing in her mouth.

"So the dress was part of it?"

Ria nodded, crossing her legs. "Sanji told me about your party fantasy and that part of it was a blue dress. He didn't remember the whole thing at first, but as he remembered more and more details we made little adjustments here and there. It meant a lot to him that we got it perfect, and I think we're both pretty happy with the results. Are you?"

_"So if it's all appetizers, then my party dress is pretty but probably nothing too fancy."_

_ "Probably not, but the trim or maybe a sash could be satin just to give it a little something extra special. It definitely won't be evening length, but cocktail length might be okay."_

Nami nodded. "I am. It's beautiful."

"Of course it is – I made it."

Nami laughed. "Of course. And it's okay – I get what everyone was up to now, and I'm not mad. You're all forgiven," she said. Ria grinned as Nami continued. "Everything about this evening has been perfect. Sanji-kun really outdid himself. I'm . . . I'm happy he did. I was so worried about him, but this makes me feel like he's okay, and in a way that makes me happiest of all."

"You care about him a lot," she said. "And I think this shows he cares about you, too."

Nami blushed. "I don't know . . ."

"Hey, he went through the trouble of throwing you a big party. At the very least you're at the top of his bestest best friends list, and that's got to count for something. Whatever the two of you decide to do, you'll work it out. Friends, lovers, doesn't matter, as long as you're both happy, sugah," said Ria. She blinked. "In other new, how many of those mini-quiche does Jimmy plan on eating?"

Jimmy appeared to hear this comment, the tray of tiny omelet pies in hand. He moved the tray away from Ria (and towards Darryl, who grabbed three while the drummer was distracted) and glared. "You can't have them. They're mine. I declare them mine." Ria grinned in amusement as Gala picked up another two while Jimmy was glaring at them, and Nami just laughed.

* * *

><p>Sanji watched Nami from the kitchen, smiling as he checked on the other appetizer courses and got Braeburn's help in doling them out. "Think she's having a good time?" Sanji asked in concern. Braeburn rolled his eyes at the cook and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm worrying too much, aren't I?"<p>

"Remember out little conversation from a few weeks back?" said Braeburn.

Sanji swallowed. "Yes?"

"I think this whole deal is proof that maybe you're ready to get back into the game."

"Braeburn, I don't-"

Braeburn stopped him, placing a finger to his lips as he spoke in a hushed tone. "I watched one woman I love waste away from disease. I had to let another woman I love go and do something dangerous and to this day I don't know if she got out okay. I miss them both something terrible every day." Sanji swallowed. "You have a chance with her now. Don't let that go to waste."

Sanji stood in the kitchen dumbfounded as Braeburn winked at him before taking another tray of mini-quiche (which Jimmy seemed to be hoarding) out to the rest of the party goers. The cook looked over at Nami, who was laughing with Ria on the couch, and wondered if his friend was right. Did he try to make her happy, or was it all just a hopeless pipe dream?

Sanji closed his eyes and swallowed. He was still so confused. But the buzzer on the oven went off again and, for the moment, he was distracted. He'd find a way to sort it out sooner rather than later for his sake and her sake. But for now it was safer to focus on the mini crab cakes coming out of the oven to feed their still hungry guests.

_Besides, at the very least I have to wait until after everyone's gone – I can't talk about this with her with all these people around. It's got to be just Nami-san and myself._ Sanji nodded to himself, took a deep breath, and started putting crab cakes onto a serving tray for the next round of appetizers, his heart racing the entire time.

* * *

><p>The party ended at eleven o'clock, and Sanji and Nami were alone in their apartment.<p>

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

So there's a lot of things to talk about this author's notes.

First of all, I may have a buffer – there are working drafts through about Chapter 28. This means that, barring final approval from my beta and my own final approval, there may be a steady stream of updates for a little bit.

Next, this story has passed 200 reviews! Thank you guys SO MUCH!

Anyone on Tumblr? If you are, both my beta and I have blogs! My blog: dixxymouri. My beta's blog: summerotaku. Neither of us seem to have a specific focus on what we blog so it's not like "oh, this is a One Piece blog" or "oh, this is an Avengers blog" although you can tell what some of our respective favorite things are and what "phases" we might go through. Honestly, the best way to figure out if you'd like to follow either of us is to look at what we reblog/post and go from there. You never know, we may reciprocate the follow ;)

I also have a blog called "dixxyfics" that currently has queued chapters from this series but if there's interest may be better served as an ask blog or something.

And lastly, about my last cancer update. The oncologist I spoke with gave me a rundown of what the report said but left out some key terms:

As it turns out I am in **remission**.

If you don't know what that is, remission is REALLY F***ING GOOD. Basically when someone tells you they are in remission, that means they are_ cancer free_ – **that's right, ladies and gentlemen, I technically don't have cancer anymore!**

**However,** I'm not exactly "done" yet, per se. For starters, I am not done with treatment – the doctor still wants me to finish up chemotherapy and I'm probably still getting radiation. Additionally, remission lasts five years (at least for the kind I had – I'm not sure on other cancers). You're out of remission if there is no relapse, and then you're considered "cured". Regardless, this is the best news I've gotten since I was told I probably had cancer back in January so there \o/.

-Dixxy


	26. Acceleration

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Twenty-Five: Acceleration

"They weren't too messy – they cleaned their plates and kept all the stuff to be washed together. Nice," said Sanji, looking at the sink where all of their guests' cups, dishes, and flatware were neatly stacked in warm, soapy water. Their trash can was about three crumpled napkins away from overflowing, and only a few scattered items were left for cleanup.

"Yeah," said Nami, starting to look around for something to pick up.

Sanji shook his head. "Nami-san, that's okay – it's your birthday, I've got this."

"Oh. Okay," she said softly. She sat down, wringing her hands.

Sanji moved in to start gathering empty bowls, then looked into her eyes. "Everything okay?"

Nami nodded. "Yes." _No I'm not._

Sanji continued to look at her, then narrowed his eyes. "You're lying to me. You are not okay."

Nami nearly panicked, then put on her best fake smile and forced a laugh. Sanji didn't seem to be buying it, so she tried even harder. "Sanji-kun, what are you talking about? We just had a birthday party – my birthday party! We had friends and food and music and dancing, I had a great time! Don't be so-"

Sanji closed the distance between them and put a finger to her mouth. "Yes. You definitely had a good time during the party – it's the most I've seen you smile in a while. But I'm talking about right now. Right now you look like you're going to start crying, and it's not because you're overwhelmed with gratitude. You look like you're dying inside, and that scares me."

She wasn't sure what to say. _When the hell did you suddenly start getting me?_ "I . . ."

Sanji moved in to hug her, resting his head on hers. "You've been miserable for weeks." He squeezed her tightly. "I'm sorry I've been distant, but please. Just tell me what's wrong. I hate seeing you like this – we've had enough misery." He backed away enough to look her in the eyes, and Nami could see concern and heartache in his gaze.

"I don't think I can tell you what's wrong."

"That's insane – we tell each other everything. Don't we?"

Nami trembled. "I can't tell you this. I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not something you want to hear," she said.

Sanji was taken aback. "What?"

"I don't know if I'm mad or crazy or frustrated or . . . damn it, Sanji-kun, I DON'T KNOW! I don't know how to deal with this – I've never had to," she said. She sat on the couch, fighting tears. She was NOT going to cry – not over this stupid bullshit drama. She gripped her knees so tight she was afraid she might cut through the dress and her skin, digging her nails all the way to her bones.

"Nami-san, look at me," Sanji said, kneeling down in front of her. "You know I won't hurt you. I'm your best friend – we've been through Hell together and we're doing fantastic. A lot better than we should be at this point. We're safe here – the people here are our friends now and this island is so well protected we don't need to worry about those people coming after us – we just sit tight and get better until Luffy and the others get here. For now, we're safe here." He swallowed. "And . . . you don't need to worry about me looking at you like a dog in heat again because I-"

The smart thing to do would be to keep her mouth shut. Nami chose to blurt out her feelings instead. "But what if I WANT you to look at me that way again!?" Realizing what she said, she covered her mouth with her hands and stared at his shocked expression in horror. She started to tremble. Oh no. This was bad. She did not just admit she wanted a man who was trying to swear off women to start undressing her with his eyes.

Sanji stared at her in shock. "You . . . I . . . what did you . . . wait, _what_?"

Nami stood, phasing through the couch to back away from him. She gripped her dress, afraid that she was losing control of the second ability again, and the last thing she wanted was to end up naked in their living room or, possibly even worse, naked in the middle of Apartment 2C (their downstairs neighbor was a nice lady, but she didn't need to have Nami drop in unexpectedly - literally).

"I'm sorry." She closed her eyes. "I . . . I don't know how it happened. I just . . . I just started looking at you different one day. And I couldn't stop. I can't stop thinking about you." She clenched her fists tighter. "I know that you think you can't offer a woman anything. I know what Deltana said hurt you, and it hurt me to see you like that. I used to use you, too, and I've never felt lower in my life than when I realized that what I was doing was hurting the most important person in the entire world to me."

Part of her told her that this was a bad idea. Pouring out her feelings like this, out in the open, was going to destroy them both. Why would Sanji return her feelings when he'd spent so long trying to squash his feelings towards women in general? Why would this even be a good idea? But despite every corner of her brain telling her to stop, her heart told her to keep going.

Nami mustered up her strength and sat back down next to Sanji. "I don't care that you're a pirate because I'm one, too. I don't care that you're an ability user and you can't swim and it's a little weird because of what That Man did to us but that's me, too – if we're freaks then it's okay because _we_ are freaks together. I don't care if we can't have children – maybe we'll get better, maybe we won't but both of us were adopted anyways and I don't know how we'd be able to do it but we could find a way to be parents if we wanted to. And as long as you're healthy I don't care how many women you've been with – if they thought all you were good for was a free meal then it's their loss."

Sanji was looking at her in stunned silence, an unreadable expression on his face. Nami stopped, wondering if she'd said too much or hurt him even more. He was looking at her like he'd never seen her in his life, and she wasn't sure what that meant. She took in a deep breath and grabbed his hands. It was all or nothing time.

"Sanji-kun, you are MORE than just some guy that a bunch of girls had sex with for a free meal. You're one of the toughest fighters I've ever met. You're one of the sweetest people I know, even if you don't always show it. You've got a gorgeous singing voice you were hiding from the world for far too long. Eating food you've cooked is one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had and I don't deserve to be able to eat it every day like I do now. You have the most amazing eyes and the kindest smile . . . it's hurting me to watch you hurt yourself like this."

"Nami-san . . ."

"Because I love you, Sanji-kun."

"Nami-san . . . I love you, too."

Nami opened her eyes, stunned, and saw that he was crying. "I've . . . I've been fighting my feelings for you for a while, too. I was afraid to hurt the friendship we'd had, because the thought of losing you scared the hell out of me." He paused, taking a deep breath as he put his hand over his mouth – Nami noticed his ring finger and middle finger parted slightly, like there should be a cigarette there; an old habit still lingering from his days as a smoker. "I wanted to say something, but I was too scared you'd say 'no'. By the time I was out on stage that first night, I realized that every song I chose, every note I sang, it wasn't for the rest of the band or the audience or anyone – it was all to you. I was going to talk to you that night, but then . . ."

"Sanji-kun . . ."

"I'm so sorry I let her fuck it up. I'm sorry I let her get to me," Sanji looked ashamed.

Nami and took his hands. "Don't," she said. "It's okay. You know that now, right?" She leaned her head forward. "You said it yourself – you got your awkward first time sex out of the way on someone who isn't important. Remember that – she's not important." Nami squeezed his hands and felt him squeeze back. "I'm right here and I love you. And this time I don't mean it in the platonic way, Sanji-kun." She grasped the sleeve of his shirt. "Not anymore."

"I love you, and it's definitely not platonic. Not anymore."

It was the most sincere they'd been with each other in weeks – the first time they'd really talked since Sanji had tried to renounce the fairer sex. They stood and embraced, quietly enjoying each other's company. Nami felt content – he was warm, he smelled familiar, and this moment might have been perfect. The moment seemed to lose its perfection when Sanji pulled away from a moment, only to gently touch her face and lean in for a kiss.

Nami let herself get a little lost in it – this was different than the first kiss he'd given her when they first got the apartment. She could taste the evenings' samplings on his tongue. His hands were gently massaging her back. She sighed happily, feeling herself wander further and further away from reason. They fell back on the couch, leaning into each other until-

And then reason slapped them both in the face and suddenly they were staring at each other like they're each just grown a unicorn horn. Nami was lying on the couch and Sanji was hovering over her – both were feeling a little flush. They paused, breathing heavily and staring at each other for several moments.

"We're moving really quickly, aren't we?" Nami said.

"Maybe should stop for now," Sanji said slowly. "Especially since, ah, you've never . . ."

"Well, um, that I don't . . . that's okay, it's more . . . aren't you supposed to wait . . . I mean . . . talking and . . . getting to know each other? I mean, that's part of dating . . . even though we sort of accidentally skipped the dating part because we've been living together and . . . shit, we're already sharing a bed, is that even okay?!" _Wonderful. Was there even a complete thought in there?_

Sanji looked confused as he maneuvered off her and sat on the couch. Nami followed suit, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "I have no idea – my brain and my heart are not in agreement right now." _And other parts of me are passionately disagreeing with my brain. _He shifted. "But, ah, maybe getting to know each other better isn't a terrible idea," he said, crossing his legs. Nami suspected another part of his body was involved in the "argument" as well.

"Sounds reasonable," Nami said, gently nodding her head.

The two shifted, sitting next to each other and not sure where to go. Their eyes wandered to the other a few times before darting away quickly. The silence was awkward and cumbersome and they needed to do something to break the tension. Nami absently looked at her nails – they were fine. Sanji found himself staring at the glass doors on the east wall – the curtains were drawn.

"We . . . already know each other really, really well," said Sanji, turning to Nami.

"There's, um, not much else to know, is there?" asked Nami, glancing over at Sanji.

They stared at each other for a few moments. They'd shared so much with each other – between their talks on That Man's ship and telling each other about their days since coming to Apple Island, it really was hard to pinpoint something, anything, that she'd never told him or he'd never told her.

Yet somehow they managed to blurt several out.

"Since we joined Luffy I've read _The Legend of Asbath _five times," Nami blurted.

"I can't stand the material Guiseppe Valentino uses to make his suits and I won't touch them."

"Although my heels on the old ship were pretty, my favorite shoes were a pair of bunny slippers Nojiko made for me when I was having a rough patch collecting the one hundred million berries. One of the ears is falling off the right slipper and the left slipper is missing an eye because I've worn them so much."

"Patty and Carne tried to buy me a prostitute for my eighteenth birthday but it ended up being a drag queen named Venus di Mylar – obviously we didn't do anything but she gave me the BEST recipe for chicken cordon blue I have ever come across and we stayed in touch afterwards swapping cooking tips."

"My dream is to make a map of the real world but sometimes for giggles I make ridiculously detailed maps of imaginary countries."

"My go to method when I can't sleep isn't counting sheep, it's counting fish, because it makes me think of All Blue."

They were back in each other's arms, saying anything and everything they didn't think they'd told the other, or perhaps anyone, before. They were kissing again, this time fueled by more intensity. Before long, their limbs were tangled, the top few buttons of Sanji's shirt had come undone, and Nami's shoes were clumsily sitting in the middle of the living room floor. They paused for a moment, breathing heavily.

_ . . . oh I am so glad I remembered to shave my legs this morning._

_Okay, calm down, just because it's been a while doesn't mean you've forgotten everything. _

"This is happening tonight, isn't it?" Nami said, feeling her heart racing.

". . . I think you're right," Sanji said, feeling a little surreal.

"Are you okay with this?"

"Are you?"

Nami held her breath for a moment. He had a point – this would be her first time, and that had the potential to be messy and awkward for both of them. Was she ready for this? Did she want this now? She looked into his eyes, laced her fingers with his, and tried to focus on her breathing while she debated whether or not it was the right time.

"Yes," she said, feeling butterflies in her stomach. "Yes, I'm okay with this."

Sanji nodded. "So . . . are we taking this elsewhere?"

"Yeah," Nami said, letting Sanji slip an arm under her knees and hoist her up. She giggled.

"We could light some candles," said Sanji, carrying her towards their room.

"That sounds pretty," she said softly, slinging her arms around his neck. "Be gentle?"

"Of course," he said with a chuckle, hip checking the door open. Sanji paused in the doorway and they both stared at the unlit room before them. It was a sight they were both used to – the neatly made bed with the cream colored bedspread, the orange and blue throw blanket at the foot, and the hodge-podge of decorative pillows they'd collected over the months. They'd been sharing it for so long, but it had always been a platonic, necessary thing.

Now . . .

They exchanged a quiet look before Sanji started to close the door behind them.

"I love you." Nami touched the side of his face, pulling him close for a kiss.

Sanji closed the gap between them. "I love you, too."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

First of all, thank you to everyone who congratulated me on my remission! You guys are awesome!

Just incase you missed it last time, my beta and I have Tumblrs you should all follow if you're on Tumblr: I'm "dixxymouri" (and dixxyfics, which I'd eventually like to convert into something of an ask blog) and my beta is "summerotaku". Look us up ^_~

One more chapter to close this arc up, and then we'll be skipping ahead a few months for an arc about a harvest festival, and also Ria and Braeburn's back stories.

Dixxy


	27. First Time Pillow Talk

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

ChapterTwenty-Six: First Time Pillow Talk

* * *

><p><em>Un<em>

* * *

><p>Nami loved where they were – snuggled together under the covers of their bed, naked and a little sweaty in each other's embrace. She could feel her hair sticking to the sides of her face and the back of her neck, and it felt <em>good<em>. Fuck all of the stories about sex being painful and humiliating and embarrassing – she really didn't have anything to compare him to, but as far as she cared? Sanji was AMAZING in bed.

Speaking of her recently acquired lover, Sanji was holding her close, breathing deeply and softly. He was quiet, content to keep one hand on the small of her back and the other on her shoulder blade. He kissed her somewhere (forehead, eyes, cheek, neck, etc.) every so often but for the most part was still, his eyes closed but she could tell he was still awake.

The silence was finally broken when she felt Sanji shuffle around to lie on his side, sliding his hand between them to grab hers. "So. . . can we agree that next time we fall in love with each other we say something right away?" Sanji asked with a smirk. Nami grinned back and laughed when he pulled her closer, kissing her neck and trailing more down her collarbone. She sighed and giggled, happy when he shifted to meet her eyes and grabbed her hand under the covers again.

"I don't want there to be a next time," Nami said softly. "We're here now. Let's stay here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sanji promised, bringing her hand to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles, releasing her hand so he could pull her closer. Nami closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the quiet moment. She held him tight, afraid it wasn't real, afraid it was all a cruel dream and that at any moment she was going to wake up and things were going to be exactly the way they had been for the past few weeks.

But dreams weren't cruel enough to create what they had. The warm glow and aroma of the candles Sanji had lit for her were really there. The cool breeze from the open bedroom window brushing across her bare shoulders was really there. Nami could still just barely feel the tingles coursing through her body, the last lingering remnants of the love they'd made.

Things had gone a bit faster than she expected. Once they'd broken through the ice separating them, things had started to accelerate. One moment they were kissing on the couch. The next they were half naked in their bedroom, losing themselves with every caress and breath. It wasn't until they were as close as two people could be that everything began to decelerate, Sanji taking things slowly to savor their first time together and letting Nami enjoy her first time with anyone.

"I'm still trying to convince myself this is happening," she said.

Sanji rubbed her shoulder. "Yeah, we did go a little fast. Kind of. We've known each other for, well, almost two years now so it's not like this just . . . happened or anything," he said. He sat up a little. "Well, kind of. I, ah, don't think we were on the same page for . . . the vast majority of the time we've known each other, have we?"

Nami laughed. "Nope. Guess not." She sighed. "I don't know if it would have made a difference back then, but I was so used to being unavailable it never occurred to me to even try before." She rolled onto her side. "I really couldn't. I wasn't stupid, I know how men used to look at me, and you know I used that to my advantage – to my village's advantage – but even if some attractive guy looked my way or asked me out on a date . . . what could I do? I was a career criminal, and if Arlong found out I had a boyfriend, what do you think he would have done?"

Sanji lowered his eyes. "It wouldn't have ended well for that guy."

"He'd have been killed, or Arlong would have used him as another pawn in his game. I couldn't do that to someone," she said. "Even if it wasn't a serious thing and it was just a guy I was hanging out with, I don't know what I would do if he'd gotten hurt or worse, all because of me. And maybe even after Arlong was gone I still felt that need to keep people out to keep them safe."

"Well, it's not like I was a catch back then," Sanji said somberly.

Nami thought about it. He wasn't exactly wrong, but she was pretty sure this wasn't a good time to agree with him. True, everything that had transpired after the party had probably given him a much-needed boost in self-confidence – not just that they'd had sex, but everything surrounding the way they'd gone about it. "You're not a bad guy," she settled on. "You're loyal, you care about your friends, you stick to your guns. You have a lot of good qualities and you need to focus on those more, especially after the month and a half you've had." She reached over to touch his shoulder. "No one here is perfect. What matters is that we love and respect each other despite not being perfect human beings."

Sanji seemed to accept this, at least for the moment, and allowed himself to relax a little. "You know, every other time I've been with a woman, we've never really talked after. Not anything meaningful, at least." He shifted a little on the mattress. "It was all very 'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am' back then. I always wanted more than that, but I could never find it. Now that I have it . . ." He smiled.

"A real relationship, huh?" asked Nami.

"It feels that way."

Nami nodded. "Even though we kind of skipped the 'dating' part?"

"What do you mean?" asked Sanji.

"Well, we never had a first date or anything like that, and we're already living together," said Nami. "We never had that experience of meeting somewhere or one of us picking the other up or anything. I'm not saying I regret the direction we're headed in right now, but it feels like we skipped a big part of this whole 'relationship' dance."

Sanji shrugged. "Give me one reason we can't go out on a date tomorrow."

"Are you asking me out now?" she asked playfully.

"Okay, sure, I'm asking you out on a date," he said. Sanji nudged her foot under the covers. "Dinner. Dancing. Stupid cheesy couple things. Whatever you want to do. I love you and I want to spend time with you." He reached over to play with her hair a little, lowering his eyes and smirking. "Unless you'd rather stay in, of course, because I know a number of very interesting ways to pass the time here, too."

Nami laughed as he leaned in to kiss her neck. "Oh really? Care to show me?"

Sanji growled seductively. "Gladly."

* * *

><p><em>Deux<em>

* * *

><p>"We should probably get this cleaned up," said Nami, picking at the cheese and cracker platter on the coffee table. The crackers were fine, but the cheese was starting to darken and get a little oily from sitting out. She took a bite and shrugged – they tasted fine, but she suspected they'd be having it as part of their morning meal. "Most of it's still good."<p>

Sanji nodded, having already begun work on that project in the kitchen. They'd wandered back in the living area of the apartment, Sanji wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and Nami wearing his shirt from the party. "They did a good job though. Jimmy went a little crazy for the mini quiche though, and I'm pretty sure that he didn't even know was a quiche was until tonight." He stared at the empty platter in bewilderment. "Guess I'll need to make a big one for him sometime."

"You make good quiche," said Nami. "I'm not sure I'd ever had it before meeting you."

"Yeah, it's a big favorite of Luffy's, too," said Sanji. He laughed. "He still loves his meat but he never turns down a good quiche, especially broccoli. It's the only way I've gotten him to eat it." He sighed. "He would have had a blast tonight." Nami nodded from her spot on the couch. All of the Straw Hats would have had a good time at the party.

They exchanged a somber look – for all of the things that were finally going well, the absence of the other Straw Hats was still hanging over them. They missed them all terribly. "It's only a matter of time," Nami said. "Yasopp's going to find them and bring them here. Even if we can't leave right away, we're going to see them again."

"Yeah," Sanji said, looking away and rubbing his arm.

It wasn't something they talked about a lot, but seeing as they didn't know how long it would take Yasopp to find Luffy and the others, there was a chance that he'd find them "too soon". If they weren't in stable enough health to leave the island when the Straw Hats made landfall, then that meeting would be little more than a visit with some discussion about when they could come back to them. It was a double edged sword – Sanji and Nami wanted to see the others soon, but the sooner they came, they more likely it was they'd be forced to watch the Thousand Sunny leave Apple Island without them, and that was going to be a tough pill to swallow.

"We would have needed a bigger place to have the party," said Nami, trying to change the subject. "It would have doubled the number of people here easily. I don't think we could have handled that kind of volume, even if we opened up the spare room." She crossed her legs. "You know, since I think the whole sleeping apart thing just became a non-issue . . . you don't think Mr. Davis is going to make us give this apartment up, do you?"  
>Sanji shook his head. "He knows enough about our situation that he won't take our sunrises away. We're paying for it, anyways, so it's none of his business." He grinned at her. "But if you're really worried about it, we can get a second bed and alternate where we have sex so we're equally utilizing both rooms."<p>

Nami threw a throw pillow towards the kitchen. Sanji howled with laughter. "Pig!"

"And I learned if I squeeze your sides hard enough, you're the squealer."

Nami stood and put her hands on her hips. "Really," she said, taking wide strides towards him.

Sanji turned to face her, his arms crossed. "Really."

"Come out here and say that."

Sanji fell into her trap, meeting her halfway between the couch and the kitchen. "Really."

Nami smiled and launched herself at him, pinning her boyfriend to the ground. Sanji was surprised by the move, and soon found himself at the mercy of his girlfriend's searching fingers. "You must have one, and I will find it," she said. Sanji tried to argue with her, but her fingers dug into his armpits and he was trapped by his own laughter.

"Nami-san!"

"Fair's fair!"

Nami leaned forward to kiss him again, and Sanji wrapped his arms around her waist.

* * *

><p><em>Trois<em>

* * *

><p>"Is three times in one night excessive?" Nami asked.<p>

Sanji shrugged. "It probably depends on the couple."

Nami seemed satisfied with the answer. After having sex on their living room floor, they'd quickly rushed the rest of the perishables into the refrigerator before jumping back into bed, Sanji's shirt and pants forgotten by the couch. "Okay. I wasn't sure. Still new to this."

Sanji twisted around (Nami whined at him, as the action made her lose her position) and kissed her. He lowered his eyes. "Everything we do here on the island and everything we do from here on out is our decision. No one is forcing us to do anything anymore." He pulled her close, then pulled his hand away.

_Right. That. _Sanji had felt the bumpy, rough skin from the numbers on the back of her neck, and he felt his stomach churn. This was a woman he'd made love to three times over the last two hours – a woman who'd just lost her virginity to him. But somehow, this bit of scar tissue was more intimate and private than all of the other places he'd explored on her body. The sex had been fun – Sanji was confident she'd enjoyed it. This, however, was a source of painful memories for both of them.

Nami closed her eyes. "It's okay, Sanji-kun – you can touch it."

"What?"

Nami brushed her fingertips near the outer edges of the number on the back of his neck. "I get it," she said. "I get what you're trying to do. But it's okay – you can touch the numbers." She was looking at him with such sincerity, such love, such honesty, and yet it still took all of his strength to brush his fingertips against them. They'd dulled over time, but they were still bumpier and drier than the rest of the skin on the back of her neck, much like the ones on the back of his.

Sanji was surprised to see her sigh with relief.

"Nami-san?"

"Those are a part of me now, too," she said. "May I . . .?"

Sanji slowly nodded, allowing her to caress his own scars. It sent a strange current up his spine, but he got it. Accepting each other meant accepting everything about each other, both the good and the bad. The numbers burned into their necks would never go away, and it might be uncomfortable for someone else to touch them, but he felt oddly safe as Nami's fingers brushed against them. He was positive it wouldn't be okay for anyone else to touch him there ever again, but her? It was fine.

This was the height of their intimacy that evening. Not the kissing, not the sex, but this – the lowering of their barriers and exposing each other to something real, some painful, and being okay with sharing that with the other. Sanji had been right when he told Braeburn that he'd never made love before, but this was something entirely different.

They fell asleep with each other's hands on the backs of their neck.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

And that concludes this story arc. Next arc takes place during the island's harvest festival, but the focus is going to be elsewhere - it's finally time for Ria and Braeburn's back stories. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Tumblr promo (again): dixxymouri and summerotaku

Additional Tumblr promo: Possible fun game! So since I want to have a use for my "dixxyfics" Tumblr beyond just posting chapters for this fic, one shots, and other things I haven't gotten on Tumblr yet, I'm going to turn it into an ask blog for the characters in this fanfic universe. This is HIGHLY experimental but a good chance for me to look at the characters in ways I hadn't considered before and hopefully an additional source of entertainment for you guys. I'll probably push this for a few chapters until I figure out whether or not it's going to take off.

Here are some ground rules:

Rule #1 – Most of the time only one or two characters will be available (and the characters available will be posted both on Tumblr and in each chapter update). I'll let you guys know who is available each chapter. For this chapter (and likely the new few) it will be Sanji and Nami.

Rule #2 – Generally speaking, ask whatever you want of the characters, but please avoid the following: obvious spoilers, things that doesn't exist in the One Piece world, and mature content (for now let's keep it PG-13, with exceptions for Rule #4). I reserve the right to ignore questions that break this rule.

Rule #3 – You may ask up to three questions per ask and divide those up amongst the characters as you wish (for example you could ask Sanji Question 1, Nami Question 2, and both of them Question 3). Bear in mind characters may answer questions they weren't asked anyways.

Rule #4 – There may be opportunities for TMI Tuesdays – those will be announced on Tumblr only. For those not in the know, "TMI Tuesday" stands for "Too Much Information Tuesday", which is a chance to ask more mature questions. I'm still on the fence about this one.

Rule #5 – All questions for the characters must be fielded through Tumblr.

Rule #6: It's possible you might ask a question that's already sitting in the inbox – if that happens I'll let you know and give you a chance to ask something else.

Rule #7: You don't talk about Fight Club.

Rule #8: _You don't talk about Fight Club._

Rule #9: You have the wedding and the reception to seal the deal – no overtime.

Rule #10: Double tap.

Rule #11: Don't cross the streams.

Rule #12: Don't expose your Mogwai to direct sunlight, don't get it wet, and DO NOT FEED IT AFTER MIDNIGHT.

Officially this won't start until this chapter shows up on Tumblr (which will be June 29, 2013) but you're welcome to submit questions before then if you'd like . . . I just won't start answering until after that point.

-Dixxy (with apologies to the films _Fight Club_, _Wedding Crashers_, _Zombieland_, _Ghostbusters_, and _Gremlins_).


	28. The Fishing Trip

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Fishing Trip

Three whole _months._

Sanji was still wrapping his mind around the idea that he was in a relationship that had lasted that long. His previous record was only a couple of weeks and that had mostly been a series of frenzied quickies and one trip to the theater (which had ended in disaster – much like the relationship had). No, this was a far cry from anything he'd had back in the East Blue.

Although there was a lot sex (maybe more than what he had back on the Baratie), it wasn't a series of five, ten minute screws in broom closets that happened because an opportunity had arisen. No, they had privacy and the luxury of being able to take their time, and there was no mad rush to make themselves presentable afterwards – they could just stay in bed to talk or cuddle or sleep or finish that one game of chess Nami had someone managed to turn into "strip chess" (which they both knew he played to lose), and no one had a feather duster stabbing them in the hip.

But there was much more to it than just sex – talking, listening to music, reading together (be it aloud to each other or silently in the other's presence, usually flopped on top of each other in some bizarre entanglement on the couch or the bed), sharing meals, going out, visiting each other at their respective jobs . . . Sanji had never had that before. Sure he'd talked with his previous flings and girlfriends and it wasn't like he'd never been on a date before, but it was all a lot of small talk, neither he nor his partners seeming terribly interested in what the other was saying. With Nami it didn't matter – even the most trivial conversations meant something to him.

Nami was more than his lover or his girlfriend – she was his partner.

* * *

><p>Being an island that consisted of a largely agricultural economy, harvest time was a big deal on Apple Island. Once the harvest was done, the entire island took the week off to celebrate with a giant festival that consisted of food, dances, concerts, carnival games, and other performances in honor of a good harvest. This year was no exception, and Sanji and Nami's friends promised them a good time.<p>

The streets of the town were already decorated for the festivities. Pumpkins and wheelbarrows filled with gourds and flowers seemed to be on every street corner, and garland made from red, orange, and yellow leaves were twisted and tied around the street lamps. Wreaths made from fake fruit were hung on doors and the local businesses were slowly switching out the bright pastels of summer for the jewel tones of fall. The streets smelled like cinnamon and baked goods, and there was a sense of harmony and good will permeating through the air.

Sanji had spent much of the previous week at the Cider Mug preparing apples for pies and would be spending a lot of time during the festival itself watching the twins while their mother finished up the rest of her dresses – all of this on top of not one but three performances during the week with Turnover. Nami, for her part, had been volunteered by Mac to hand out balloons and paint faces at the more child friendly events. This wouldn't have been so bad by itself, but the mayor had gotten Ria to make something that was, according to Nami, absolutely horrible.

A Sapphire Witch costume.

Sanji wasn't sure if he should be laughing, turned on, or hiding from Nami for what she might do to him if he had any of the above reactions to what he saw before his eyes. Should he try to be . . . sympathetic? Encouraging? He really wasn't sure. So, for the moment, his dumbfounded confusion was the safest mental state he could be in.

"Aw, come on, sugah, it looks cute on you," Ria said, hiding a grin behind his fingers.

Nami glared at the seamstress. "You aren't the one in the stupid costume."

Sanji could almost see the hairs standing up on the back of Ria's neck. "What did you just call my dress? 'Stupid'? I'll have you know that 'stupid costume' cost me over ten thousand berries in materials and at least twelve hours of labor! You have any idea how much blood, sweat, and tears went into that 'stupid costume'?"

Nami fumed back. "I'M DRESSED LIKE A COMIC BOOK CHARACTER!"

"But the kids LOVE the Sapphire Witch!"

"_Well_ _I don't!_"

Ria studied the dress for a few moments. Nami pouted at her, looking to Sanji for help. The seamstress cleared her throat, trying to offer a solution to the navigator's complaints. "Well, the skirt's a little short – I can shorten it a little more after the festival is over and maybe Sanji will like it," Ria offered.

Sanji held up his hands. "I'm staying far away from this discussion."

"Smart and cute – he's a keeper, sugah."

Nami was still fuming. "I can't believe Mac got me to do this . . ."

"You'll be making the children of the island happy, and it's only for a couple of hours every day. The rest of the time you'll get to wear cute fall-themed dressed and, better yet, you'll have plenty of time to do cute couple stuff with Sanji this week, too. Sanji isn't performing Thursday night and there's a huge dance that night," said Ria.

Nami sighed. "That'll be nice. . ."

Ria turned Nami around to face the mirror in her fitting room. "See? Silver lining."

"It's only for a few days."

"There you go! Then you can use it for dress up – maybe you can get Sanji to wear the dress."

The blonde covered his ears. "I am staying FAR, FAR AWAY from this discussion!"

Ria pouted. "You're no fun."

Sanji stuck his tongue out at the seamstress. ". . . I hate you."

* * *

><p>The first day of the harvest festival started early for Sanji. Although he was a morning person, he'd hated getting up so much earlier than Nami and leaving her alone in their bed. Once he was showered and dressed, he sat on the edge of their bed to watch her sleep for a few moments before kissing her forehead goodbye.<p>

There was a lot of baking to do at the Cider Mug.

The restaurant itself would not be at full capacity in order to give the staff a chance to enjoy the festival, but this didn't mean the staff was completely off the hook. The kitchen staff was to be there early in the morning to bake and assemble boxed meals, all of which would be sold by the wait staff that morning and afternoon before closing for the evening.

Sanji didn't necessarily mind this, but Ria had asked him to take the twins once his shift at the restaurant was over, and then he and the rest of Turnover had a performance that evening. It was going to be a very long day. At the very least he had the following day completely off – Braeburn had invited him to go fishing in the morning and afternoon, and then he and Nami would get a chance to spend the evening together. That was going to be a long day, too, but at least it would be fun.

For his assignment that morning, Sanji and Jimmy were in charge of soups – the only item being sold that wouldn't be pre-packaged. Three stock pots were simmering chicken noodle, tomato, and a butternut squash bisque. Jimmy looked overtired and was periodically stepping away from their work to nurse a cup of coffee.

"Blech. I did not sleep well last night," Jimmy whined.

"What were you doing?" asked Sanji. "You knew we had work early."

"Yeah, I know, I just couldn't sleep," he said. "You know how it is, right?"

"Sometimes," said the blonde. "It's been a while though."

Jimmy sighed. "You've got someone to curl up next to every night – I bet that helps."

Sanji smiled. "A little. We feel safe with the other around."

"It's good you have that. Not everyone does." The other cook carried a sad tone in his voice.

"A girlfriend?" asked Sanji. He sighed. "As the voice of experience, Jimmy, if you try TOO hard-"

"No, no, I'm not talking about me!" said Jimmy, shaking his head with a slight laugh. He sighed. "Actually I meant Beebs and . . . well, not a girlfriend, in his case. He seems to be doing better this year, but the harvest festival is always a tough time for him as long as I've known him." He paused in what he was doing. "I think you're the only one who doesn't know."

Sanji frowned. Although he and Braeburn had discussed the blacksmith's love life before, the details had always been somewhat vague_. "I watched one woman I love waste away from disease. I had to let another woman I love go and do something dangerous and to this day I don't know if she got out okay. I miss them both something terrible every day."_

"He's told me a little but . . . I'll bite. What don't I know?"

Jimmy sighed. "The harvest festival usually coincides with his wedding anniversary."

Sanji felt a pit in his stomach. He never knew Braeburn had been married. "What happened?"

"She passed away," said Jimmy. He sighed. "It's probably good for him that his wedding anniversary is during such a busy time on the island – he keeps himself really busy and, well, yeah, there's a lot to do this time of year around town so I guess it works out . . . I just wish he was getting involved because of other reasons, you know?"

"Yeah," said Sanji. "Me, too."

* * *

><p>"Seriously?"<p>

After Ria had collected her daughters for the afternoon and Nami was allowed to "return to her secret identity", there were a couple of hours before Sanji had to meet with the rest of Turnover for that night's performance. Until then, the couple decided to see what the town had to offer during the festival. Sanji told Nami about his conversation with Jimmy over a light picnic dinner in the public orchards. "I had no idea."

"He's mentioned being in love with me before," said Sanji. He reached above his head to grab an apple and looked at it sadly. "When I was still upset over Deltana, he told me he'd been in love twice, and he said one of them had passed away from illness. I didn't realize he'd married her, though." He leaned his head back.

Nami frowned. "I had no idea."

Sanji felt a pit in his stomach. Marriage was a big deal. It wasn't like he felt it was some ultimate declaration of undying love or anything (he and Nami didn't need a piece of paper and a pair of rings to validate their feelings for each other and he was pretty sure if he got down on one knee he'd have the velvet box shoved up his ass), but it represented something. Getting married was about settling down, planting some roots, maybe having a few kids and a dog or something – these were things he and Nami were not ready for.

But at some point, Braeburn had been ready for those things. He'd gotten married. He'd probably started planting those roots. And something had grabbed his friend and tore his life apart. Sanji's eyes widened. "And he's here," he said. Nami looked at him in confusion. "Think about it. No one comes to this island without some kind of baggage."

"Losing his wife isn't baggage?" asked Nami.

"Not the kind of baggage that would put Braeburn on a boat with a pregnant woman headed for an island flying the flag of one of the Four Emperors," said Sanji. "If it was just his wife passing away, he probably would have mourned her for a bit and then started to put his life back together. Sure, maybe he might have decided to go to an island to start over . . . but not _this_ island." He closed his eyes.

"It was probably something painful," said Nami. She rubbed his shoulder. "Look at it this way – even if he's looking for distractions this week, he still might need to talk about it. And you're going on that fishing thing with him tomorrow, so maybe it'll come up then. Just don't push it – let him bring it up. Think about how you'd want the subject of what happened to us handled."

Sanji nodded. She had a point. "All right. You're right."

* * *

><p>"This is going to be great, right?" said Braeburn, leading Sanji into the wooded part of the island, carrying fishing rods over their shoulders. In addition to those, the blacksmith was carrying a tackle box and the cook was carrying a pair of lovingly prepared lunches. "There's a good fishing hole around here – I don't know about you, but I find it relaxing."<p>

"Well, fishing isn't usually about sport for me – it's usually about survival," said Sanji. "You know how many times we've had fish because Luffy and the others stuffed their faces without thinking about our food supply? A lot. A lot of times." He sighed and shook his head. "Luffy's not a bad captain – most of the time – but he can be kind of a dumbass."

Soon enough, they came across Braeburn's fishing hole. It was a fairly small pond with a rickety wooden bridge built across it, and much to the cook's horror the blacksmith started to cross the bridge. Not that the pond looked all that deep, but for a man who'd been robbed of his ability to swim over a year earlier, it was terrifying and looked impossibly bottomless. "Uh, Braeburn? What are you doing?"

Braeburn stopped about halfway across the bridge and turned to look at Sanji. "It's fine, don't worry. Besides, the best spot to fish is on the other side – they don't bite around this side and it's easier to cross the bridge than go around." He continued on the bridge, leaving Sanji to look on with worry. He toed the structure – it creaked something awful, and the instincts his Devil Fruits gave him made him very, very nervous.

"Sanji! I'm at least fifty pounds heavier than you and I got across just fine! Just go slow!"

Sanji saw that Braeburn had already reached the other side and was start to set up camp. Taking a deep breath and gathering up the rest of his nerves, the cook stepped onto the bridge. Feeling shaky and a little sick to his stomach and a little like he'd rather just get this over with, he started to run across the bridge.

There was a horribly snapping sound behind him, and Sanji froze in terror as the bridge buckled underfoot.  
>Braeburn dropped what he was doing and screamed. "SANJI!"<p>

CRACK!

Sanji screamed as the bridge gave way beneath him, and he suddenly found himself falling fast. His eyes widened in fear as he went under, and the horrifying feeling of being unable to move washed over him. He clenched his eyes and mouth shut, hoping and praying that Braeburn would figure out he couldn't swim.

He didn't know how long it was before he felt the other man grab him and pull him away from the sandy bottom. Maybe it had only been a few seconds, maybe it had taken the blacksmith a minute to realize why he'd been so scared – the cook couldn't tell, but was glad that Braeburn had come to his rescue and he clung to him like a scared child. Once they broke the surface, Sanji gasped for the precious, precious air he'd been denied as Braeburn dragged him to the shore.

"Why didn't you tell me you ate a Devil Fruit!?" Braeburn yelled.

"I don't like to talk about it!" Sanji snapped back, holding back tears and high strung emotions. Memories of That Man and his men forcing the Devil Fruit down his throat and Nami's, memories of the Tank, it was all coming back to him in a wash of fear and discomfort. He looked up at Braeburn with frustation. "I was force fed, okay?!"

Braeburn got quiet as they got to the shore. "I'm sorry."

Sanji closed his eyes and peeled off his shirt to ring it out. Being on dry land again made him clam down a little, and he took a deep breath. "No . . . it's fine, I think." He turned towards a tree with a low hanging branch to hang his shirt over the side. "But . . . thanks for saving my life, Braeburn. I'm sorry I snapped, I just . . . don't do well around water anymore."

"Sanji . . ."

The cook laughed bitterly. "I used to be one of the best swimmers in Luffy's crew. I survived fighting a fishman underwater once. I was good enough in the water that I could survive against one of those guys for . . . I don't know, maybe about five minutes? I had to get him on dry land to win, but if I had to do that all over again now . . . I'd be dead." He closed his eyes. "We really don't even use our powers much. We've experimented a little and, sometimes they activate on their own if we're really upset but every time I try to do it on my own . . . I start remembering." Sanji could feel his bones shifting and the fur sprouting from his skin. He was humiliated. "See? I'm not doing this on purpose right now."

"It's okay, Sanji. Calm down." Braeburn put himself in front of him and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Take a deep breath, look at me, and focus on your breathing. Okay?" Sanji nodded dumbly as Braeburn gently calmed him down, and the cook was finally able to revert to his human form. "Sometimes you and Nami are doing so well I forget how bad you guys were when you got here. But think about it this way – look how far you've come. You're doing better than anyone could have expected of you."

Sanji nodded. That was true. They were both working, they had started trying to get back into fighting shape (Gala was hinting that they might be cleared for contact training soon), and although the memories of what That Man had done to them was still haunting them, they were able to focus on and be happy about other things. They had come a long way – they still had a lot more to go, but to get to where he stood on that day had been no small task.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," said Braeburn, smiling and giving him a pat on the back. He looked down at himself and laughed. "Let me just dry off a little and then we can see if we get any bites, okay?" Sanji smiled and went back to wringing his own shirt out, feeling a bit more at peace than he would have expected.

"I still have to thank you again though. I would have been screwed if you hadn't . . ." Sanji paused mid-sentence as he got a good look at Braeburn, who was ringing out his shirt a few yards away close to a tree with a similarly low-hanging branch. The cook stared in disbelief, trying to tell himself his eyes were somehow lying to him. _No. No, this can't be true._

Braeburn turned to face Sanji, a smile on his face. "Yeah you would have in pretty deep trouble if I hand't . . . Sanji? Are you . . ." Braeburn froze in pace. He looked horrified and embarrassed and panic-stricken. He stared at Sanji for several moments before turning on his heels to run deeper into the woods without saying a further word.

Sanji reached towards his friend but didn't give chase as it started to sink in.

_No way . . ._

What he had seen was real after all.

_Braeburn . . . how . . ._

That mark really was on his friend's back.

Braeburn had been a member of Baroque Works.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Yup. That's a thing I've been waiting to reveal for a while.

So the character Q&A thing got a grand total of zero interest so far, and, well, that's okay. If I come up with something else I'll let you guys know, okay? Okay.

Although 28 is in great shape to go to my beta in a little bit, 29 isn't playing nice. At all. I also need to plan out the next several chapters after it to make sure all of my ducks are in a row. Also there is a lot of stuff going on during July and into August (for example, I've got more than one barbeque to attend this week) so there's that, too. I'm not calling "hiatus" or anything like that, but updates might be slowing down over the next couple of months.

Dixxy


	29. The Twins' Father

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Twin's Father

There were screaming, crying, and laughing children absolutely everywhere.

Nami was surrounded.

The park where Sanji sometime took the twins was the site of the major children's events during the festival. Gala had been roped into dressing up as a clown to pass out balloons (he looked just as tired and frustrated as she did), a few volunteers were painting rainbows and smiley faces on cheeks, and Darryl and Jimmy were hosting some sort of sing-a-long event. Today, Nami was in charge of passing out candied apples.

It was only the third hour and already her wig had been pulled off three times, the screaming was giving her a headache, and an entire bowl of the sticky red syrup they used to make the candied apples had fallen over and on her, ruining her shoes and getting on the skirt of her dress. Ria was going to be pissed, but Nami was assured at least the dress was salvageable.

It was enough to make Nami question her sex life. Sure, she and Sanji were currently both sterile so she wasn't worried about an unexpected new member of their, well, at that point she guessed they'd be a "family", but for the moment she was happy with "couple". And she knew that Sanji wanted children someday, something she'd never thought about much before but decided could be a discussion to have in a few years, once Luffy had found the One Piece and they'd seen their own dreams come true. But that was _someday_, not anytime soon. No, these screaming children were wearing at her patience and the thought of having one she was responsible for full time (especially when she caught site of the very pregnant Mrs. Honeycrisp and the four spastic animals she called her children) made her want to kick Sanji out of their bedroom if he so much as said the word "cuddle".

_Other people's children – Mother Nature's birth control._

"AUNTIE NAMI!"

Nami was nearly brought to the ground by Wendy and Sundae, who slammed into her from both sides, jumping up and down as they told her about their day (something about pony rides and hot dogs, possibly at the same time). Ria took a moment to laugh before calmly telling her girls to settle down. The twins obeyed, going back to their mother. "Sorry about that – they've had a busy day."

"I'll bet," Nami said. She leaned forward. "Would you girls like some candied apples?"

"Yes, please!" they said in unison. Nami smiled – at least they used the word "please".

"What happened to your dress?" Ria asked. Her eyes were locked on the red syrup stains.

"There was an accident," Nami replied with a grimace. "I was told it's washable."

"The candy might be but that dress isn't," she said. "I'm going to need to handle that. Come on."

Nami watched the family start to walk away, but then Ria stopped and turned around and gestured for her to follow, one hand on her hip and her eyes narrowed. "I said 'come on', sugah. We've got to wash that dress and since you're still wearing it, you've got to come with me. I'll get you something clean to wear at the shop."

"I can't – I still have two hours left," Nami said.

"Not if it means my costume gets ruined!"

"But Mac-"

Ria was back in front of Nami, the twins with her and the keys to her shop in hand. "Take the girls back home – I will meet you there. I'm going to explain to Mac that I'm not letting that dress get ruined and you're not to be anywhere near candied applies or chocolate pies or whatever else these kids are going to make into a big mess while you're in that dress."

"How?"

Ria grinned. "You don't wanna know, sugah."

* * *

><p>"Are we going to be able to go back to the festival?" Wendy asked. Nami had brought the girls back home, and now the three of them were waiting in the shop for Ria's return. The twins were getting impatient and fidgety after being taken away from the fun. Nami wanted to sit, but suspected Ria wouldn't want the candy coating on any of her chairs.<p>

"I'm sure you will – your mom just needs a few minutes to talk to Mac."

Sundae pouted. "Is this because Mommy's all by herself?"

Nami was surprised by this. "Huh?"

"We don't have a Daddy, so Mommy takes care of us all by herself, and if we had a Daddy we could have stayed with him and played more instead of going home early," said Wendy. She pouted, kicking the checkout counter. "Most of the other kids have a Mommy and a Daddy – except for Adam Pearmain, he has two Daddies, and Belle de Boskoop has two Mommies – so why do we only have Mommy? Why don't we have a Daddy?"

Nami sat herself down and beckoned the girls closer. "I only had one parent."

This got the twins' attention. "Really?"

Nami nodded. "When I was a baby . . . something happened on the island I was born on, so it was just me and a little girl not much older than me all by ourselves. We were found by a woman named Bellemere, and she decided to take care of us and be our mother. She brought us back to her village and raised us in a little house on a tangerine grove."

"What's a tangerine?" asked Sundae.

"It's another kind of fruit – they can't grow on this island and they rarely come on the trade ships," said Nami. "They're similar to oranges, but smaller and sweeter. You guys have had oranges before right?" The twins nodded. "Sanji-kun and I look for them whenever the trade ships come in, but we haven't seen any yet."

"So you have a sister?"

"Yes – her name is Nojiko, and she's two years older than me." Nami sighed, and a thought occurred to her – the twins might ask what happened to Bellemere, and that was a memory she wasn't sure she wanted to share with the girls, so she quickly changed the subject. "And Sanji-kun only had one parent, too. He was raised by a man named Zeff who took him in when he was . . . nine, I think? They fought a lot, but deep down they cared about each other, and that's what's most important."

"What're we talking about?" Ria came into the shop, and the twins greeted her.

"Auntie Nami told us she and Uncle Sanji were both raised by one person, too," said Wendy.

"Not the same person – Belly Mare and Jeff," said Sundae.

"That's 'Bellemere' and 'Zeff'," Nami politely corrected.

Ria nodded, but her eyebrow was raised. "Oh? What brought this up?"

"Because you won't tell us why we don't have a Daddy," said Wendy.

The seamstress crossed her arms. "Sugahs . . . I told you I'd tell you when you were older."

_Of course not. You can't tell a pair of three year olds they were the result of a one night stand._

The twins pouted, and Ria told them to run upstairs while she helped Nami get changed. They obeyed and bounced upstairs while Ria led Nami into one of the back rooms to find a clean set of clothing for her to wear. "Sore subject for the girls, huh?" Nami asked, taking a seat while Ria tried to put an outfit together for her.

"They ask about him all the time," said Ria. "I can't tell them yet."

"Of course not."

Ria grabbed a pair of jeans, eyed it, and placed it on the table. "Is it true?"

"That Sanji-kin and I came from single parent homes? Yeah," said Nami. "Both of us were adopted, too. My birth parents were killed in a pirate attack on the island I was born on. I was too little to remember, so I don't even know anything about them at all, really. And Sanji-kun? His parents died when he was a baby, too. He spent some time with his biological grandmother before she passed away, but then he got apprenticed off by the relatives who took him in after that. I think the first place he considered 'home' and 'family' was the restaurant he was working at when Luffy and the rest of us found him."

"How do they feel about you two being pirates? Your adopted parents, I mean."

"Sanji-kun's dad was a former pirate himself, so he's fine with it, I'm sure. My mom, Bellemere, was a Marine, but . . ." Nami closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "When I was ten, our island was invaded by pirates. They set up a system where we had to pay them tributes to live . . . a horrible version of what Shanks does here. But when they showed up, she couldn't pay the tribute for all of us. So she was killed. Shot right in front of me and my sister."

Ria turned to look at her in horror. "Oh my God."

"Yeah, and it got worse. They found out I knew how to draw maps really well, and the captain decided he wanted me to make sea charts for them. After he showed me what his crew would do to any Marine ships who tried to come and save us, he made me strike a deal with him. If I could raise one hundred million berries, I could buy back my island, but until then I had to be a member of his crew." Nami pulled up the sleeve of her dress. "You can't see it too well, but the tattoo I have now is covering up the scars of his crew's mark."

Ria walked over to her and embraced her. "I had no idea, sugah." Nami returned the hug, letting the other woman squeeze her. "But I don't get it – if you had such an awful experience with being a pirate, what in the world possessed you to join your current captain? Hell, how did you even manage to get that much money together?" Her eyes widened. "And if that's the system that captain had there, how do you stand being here?"

"Shanks is not like Arlong – at all. He was very up front with me about what his deal with Apple Island is and his willingness to let things go if there's a bad harvest year. If a single person couldn't pay the tribute or tried to rebel, Arlong would kill everyone in that village. I saw at least three villages get massacred because of it. As far as I know my village was able to keep on top of their tributes, or Arlong went 'easy' on them to keep better control over me," said Nami.  
>"How'd you get out of it?" asked Ria.<p>

"Well, I spent the next eight years learning to rob pirates – I actually got my hands on most of the money I needed to buy back my village that way. But towards the end of it I ran into Luffy and even though I hated pirates, I found myself starting to like him and his crew. Of course it was really small at the time – it was just him and a famous pirate hunter from the East Blue, Roronoa Zoro. Not long after we picked up Yasopp's son, Usopp, and pretty soon after that we met Sanji-kun."

Ria pulled herself out of the hug and looked at Nami with wide eyes. "Say that again?"

"Uh, there was Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, and Sanji-kun," said Nami. "Luffy was-"

"No. Roronoa Zoro," Ria said flatly. "Green hair? Three swords? Loves booze?"

The navigator's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't like Ria had described something only a close friend would know (green hair, three swords, and a penchant for alcohol was the kind of thing you could figure out about Zoro after about five minutes) but certainly enough that she'd believe they'd at least met before. "You . . . you know him?"

The seamstress closed her eyes. "Yeah. I do."

"Well, how do you know Zoro?" Nami asked. Ria backed away from her, looking like she didn't quite know what to do with herself. That was unlike the seamstress. Normally the woman was brimming with confidence and poise, but now she resembled a scared little girl. And, considering what they'd been talking about before, a thought popped into Nami's head. "Ria . . . he's . . . not . . ."

". . . yeah. He's the twins' father."

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile . . .<em>

* * *

><p>Sanji was running through the woods, trying to find the blacksmith to confront him about what had just happened at the fishing hole after he'd been pulled out of the water. Braeburn knew the island better, but the sensitive hearing he had from his Zoan Devil Fruit was helping him track the other man, so he hadn't lost him yet. It still felt surreal, but he knew what he saw and as much as he didn't like it, it HAD to be true.<p>

_Baroque Works._

The tattoo across Braeburn's back was huge, with the entire wingspan of the organization's jolly roger stretching from shoulder to shoulder. From discussions with Robin and Vivi on the subject he knew not all of the members had tattoos, but a lot of them did as a show of loyalty to the organization. Neither the princess nor the archaeologist had one, but to try and keep their cover, Igaram had gotten one of his left bicep.

Sanji wasn't sure what to make of it all. Baroque Works had definitely done a lot of bad things, but depending on where Braeburn had been in the rankings meant that he didn't necessarily know the full extent of what his bosses were up to. Maybe he didn't know about their involvement in the Arabasta Civil War. Maybe he was just a paper pusher or something. Maybe he was . . .

The cook thought back to the night he'd first met the blacksmith and felt a pit in his stomach. _"I see you've found Rosalie. Relax, I'm not going to attack you or anything crazy like that – I like you and I don't hurt people I like. I haven't had a need to use her in a long time and, God willing, I won't for a long time to come. Maybe never if I'm lucky. But she's still a lovely hammer, isn't she?"_

_Rosalie._

Sanji remembered Braeburn's war hammer. It was obvious the hammer had been refinished at some point to cover . . . something . . . up, and now it was starting to look like it was another Baroque Works symbol. That had been his weapon while he was with the organization, meaning whatever he'd done it was more than just "paper pushing". But where in the organization was he?

The cook was liking this less and less – they hadn't met all of the Frontier Agents. They'd met all of the Officer Agents (the Mr. 0 pair, the Mr. 1 pair, Mr. 2 Bon Clay, the Mr. 3 pair, the Mr. 4 pair, and the Mr. 5 pair) but only about half of the rest. The Mr. 13 pair were those animals he'd beaten up in Little Garden. Vivi was part of the Mr. 9 pair, and Igaram had been part of the Mr. 8 pair. The Mr. 7 pair were the idiots trying to detonate the bomb in Alubarna. That left the 12, 11, 10, and 6 pairs . . . although Sanji realized it was possible that he could have been replaced by someone else so maybe he'd been Mr. 8 before Igaram or something.

_. . . wait a second._

Sanji nearly tripped over a rock, but instincts from the other fruit suspended him in mid-air long enough to regain his boundaries, and he landed gracefully on his feet. _Pairs_. The Frontier Agents worked in _pairs_ – male, female pairs. The only exception to that rule was Mr. 2 Bon Clay. If Braeburn was one of the other Frontier Agents that meant he'd had a partner at some point. And Sanji knew EXACTLY who that partner would have been.

_Ria._

Braeburn and the seamstress had arrived on the island at the same time. Both of them were capable fighters and were the island's second line of defense (in the event a pirate crew was ballsy enough to disregard Shanks' flag).To this day they were still fairly close – the blacksmith was the twins' godfather and he checked in on the small family fairly regularly to make sure they were doing okay.

She HAD to be his former partner.

_Son of a bitch_.

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile . . .<em>

* * *

><p>Nami's jaw dropped. "No way."<p>

"He's the only possible one – I wasn't with anyone else anywhere near the time I got pregnant, so it has to be him," Ria said. She was emoting more now, maybe a little relieved that she'd just come out and said it, but she wasn't back to her old self. She was pacing a little, looking concerned. "And he's on your crew. Seriously? He's one of the Straw Hat Pirates?"

"Are you upset the girls' father is a pirate now?" Nami asked.

Ria paused. "No, no, it's not that . . . although that's going to be a fun pill to swallow later and I've got a bottle of wine upstairs I'm going to use to help me with that one, but . . . son of a bitch." She leaned against the counter, her head lowered. "If I tell you a secret, will you promise to hear me out and not lose your cool if I tell you the whole story?"

"What do you mean 'the whole story'?" asked Nami. "You told me it was a one night stand and I believe you, so I don't see what else there is to tell." She thought about who she was talking with, groaned, and covered her forehead with her palm. "And I'm not really interested in hearing about the 'details'."

"Not that part of the story," said Ria, though she did giggle and look away with a blush.

"Okay, then what exactly is this 'whole story' business?" asked Nami.

Ria sighed, finally picking out a shirt for Nami to wear and handing the outfit to her friend. "Here's the thing, sugah. When Zoro and I met, I wasn't exactly working for the most savory group of people, and I was tasked with getting him to join. That didn't exactly work out, but I don't know if they tried again with someone else. But when they found out I was pregnant . . ."

Nami had an awful feeling in her stomach. "You were in Baroque Works, weren't you?"

The seamstress' face paled. "How . . . how did you know that name?"

"A lot of reasons," said Nami. "A big one being that Luffy and the rest of us were orchestral in taking them down, and considering that it sounds like they wanted you dead I'm going to assume that this is probably a good thing for you. Still, I think we need to talk – especially before the rest of my crew arrives on this island."

"Yes," said Ria. "Of course, sugah."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Today (July 31) is my birthday so, as I (try to) do every year, y'all get a present! Also big thanks to Misha for getting this beta'd, as usual

Remember when I thought I had 28 ready to go? Yeah I did a rewrite after I posted 27 because I realized some things weren't working and then it decided not to play nice . . . you know the drill. Plus we're in the middle of a move so there's that, too :/

Oh wait there's an elephant in the room now isn't there? Namely that Zoro and Ria hooked up at some point roughly eight to nine months before Wendy and Sundae were born (twins are often born early). Well, although there will be more detail in the coming chapters as to how that happened, well, they aren't likely to hook up again. Ria made it pretty clear that all she and the baby's father had a one night stand and that she doesn't have any feelings for him - I don't think she hates him or resents him but she isn't pining for her long lost lover.

Until next time!

Dixxy


	30. Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter 29: Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro

After getting Nami out of the soiled costume and into some clean clothes, the women went upstairs to Ria's apartment to sit down over some tea to try and sort out their conversation. The seamstress looked like a wreck, running her hands through her hair and staring into her tea cup like it would somehow save her from the impending dialog.

Nami had calmed down a little, but there were still a lot of things that needed explaining. She guessed that Ria had slept with Zoro (that was a weird thought – well, the part about Ria sleeping with someone was no surprise, but Zoro even having an _interest_ was news to her) in some sort of an attempt to recruit him into Baroque Works. Apparently whatever protection they'd used (if any) had failed and now the twins were . . . here.

Ria seemed bothered and upset. There was no telling what her relationship with Zoro had been like, so maybe that was a source of stress, but there was also the revelation that she had been involved with Baroque Works. She frowned, realizing that this meant he probably wasn't the only other Straw Hat she'd encountered before. _Guess that means she must know Robin, too._

Neither woman was ready to break the silence.

"Mommy! Auntie Nami!"

The twins ran into the living room from their bedroom, and Nami found herself looking at them in a whole new light. By no means did the girls look like miniature versions of the swordsman, but little things on their faces, now that she knew the secret, were very telling. At the moment it was in the way they were smiling while they showed off their latest pictures. _They smile just like him when he's really happy._ It wasn't a smile Zoro brought out very often – he had a lot of smug smirks and grins in his arsenal of facial expressions, but every so often when something really good happened, his face would light up and not even Sanji at his worst could bring him down_. _Nami closed her eyes and tried to hold back a sob._ That's it, right there. That smile. Zoro's smile. _Even though she had no reason to doubt Ria before . . . now she knew for certain.

"Auntie Nami?"

Sundae had seated herself next to Nami and given her a picture she'd drawn of the Sapphire Witch (or perhaps Nami in her Sapphire Witch costume – she couldn't be sure either way). Accepting the gift, she smiled and gave the little girl a hug. "Thank you, Sundae – it's beautiful. Uncle Sanji and I are going to have to try and find a free spot on the fridge for it."

(There was no free spot on the fridge – thanks to the twins there hadn't been one for months.)

Wendy grinned. "Come on, Sundae, there's lots of other stuff we can draw."

"Like Dr. Clown?"

"Okay!"

The girls scampered off back down the hallway and slammed the door to their room shut, presumably to draw Dr. Gala in his clown costume. Ria and Nami exchanged a look, the latter finding the courage to speak. "Ria, I just . . . I get it. There were a lot of bad people in Baroque Works. But there were good people in there, too." She smiled a little, thinking about Robin and Vivi – funny how it seemed all of her closest girlfriends were former Baroque Works operatives. "Just tell me the truth and I promise I'll listen."

Ria took a deep breath. "Well . . . I was an orphan. I was really small when my parents died, but I didn't get picked up by anyone and the orphanage . . . well that place sucked. The adults in charge were always yelling at us over little things, we got bad food and ratty clothes, and even though people donated money to help us out, it all went to the people in charge. Eventually I got fed up with it and ran off with a handful of other girls.

"After a few years we were self-sufficient – we'd learned to fight, hunted bounties every so often, even did our share of questionable business, but we never really had a home of our own. It wasn't until I was eighteen that Baroque Works found us and lured us in with the promise of fortune and power in their little utopia." Ria crossed her legs. "We didn't exactly have it easy – hell, sounds like you didn't either, sugah. The idea of a perfect place where everyone could be happy . . . we liked the idea of helping to make a place where kids didn't have to worry about living like we had. So we took the job."

"What happened to your friends?" Nami asked.

"We all got assigned to different places in the company, I guess. As far as I know I'm the only one who got a high rank, but after I left . . . who knows?" Ria gripped her tea cup and sighed heavily. "I just hope they all got out okay and with their heads on straight." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure they're fine. They have to be."

Nami's eyes darkened. "When you said you got a high rank . . . you were a numbered agent."

Ria nodded, her eyes looking away. "Yeah. That's . . . actually how I met Braeburn. He was my partner," Ria said sadly. Nami's eyes widened – she hadn't thought about it, but considering how close she and the blacksmith were it made sense that they were former partners. "He was Mr. 6, I was Miss Mother's Day. But we got involved with the company for different reasons. His reasons are really personal and you're best asking him to explain it, but you've already heard mine."

She made a mental note to talk with Braeburn about this later – as it was she was probably going to have to talk with Sanji about this, too. _He's going to shit a brick when he finds out Zoro has two children. Ugh, I hope this doesn't start a fight between the two of them when Luffy and the others get here. Actually . . . _"So, then how did you cross paths with Zoro? He'd never been to the Grand Line before Luffy came into the picture and I thought Baroque Works was mostly out here."

"That's easy - recruitment," said Ria. "His name was on a list of potential recruits for the company and the two of us got stuck with recruitment duty when that list came out. See, we were what you'd call Frontier Agents, so most of the time we hung out on one of the entrance islands to the Grand Line hunting pirates who'd just shown up. But every time the boss wanted to fill out the ranks, he usually picked one of the Frontier pairs to go find people on whatever list he'd compiled, and Mr. 6 and I got a list with a bunch of guys out of East Blue. We split the list fifty-fifty, and my half of the list included our favorite swordsman's name . . ."

* * *

><p><em>Four Years Ago, East Blue<em>

* * *

><p><em> The Buster Brothers were a bust. Before Miss Mother's Day had a chance to meet them, they'd been killed by Don Krieg's pirate armada. Not long after, she found Singing Swordsman Pierre wetting himself when pitted against a smalltime gang of thugs that Miss Mother's Day was positive she could have handled when she was twelve. So not worth her time.<em>

_ That left the pirate hunter._

_ Roronoa Zoro._

_ Miss Mother's Day spent a long time tracking him down, but the more she heard about her target, the more convinced she was that unlike her previous targets, this guy might be the real deal. He had a lot of targets to his name and was feared even by some of the local Marines. Even more interesting, he was supposedly skilled in the art of . . . santoryu?_

My, my, my, someone thinks highly of their 'third sword.'

_ Miss Mother's Day was on a passenger ship sailing between several islands on the East Blue. Word only traveled as fast as the trade and passenger vessels, and she hoped to pick up a clue as to where the famed pirate hunter was while on board. So far she hadn't heard anything. Getting bored with staring at the horizon line, she decided to see if there was anything in the mess hall worth eating._

_ Distracted by her growling stomach, she didn't notice the outstretched leg in her path. The top of her boot hit the ankle and she was sent tumbling forward, landing unceremoniously on the deck with her butt in the air and her pride in shambles. Miss Mother's Day struggled to compose herself and saw what had tripped her up – some asshole was taking a nap on the deck and had his leg stretched out where people might, for example, trip and fall flat on their face._

_ "Hey! Asshole!" she snapped. "What the hell?!"_

_ The asshole opened one eye. "Huh?"_

_ "Find a better place to take a nap, jackass!" she said, getting to her feet and brushing herself off._

_ "What's your problem?" he asked._

_ Miss Mother's Day pointed at his still outstretched leg. "Foot." She pointed at the walkway his leg was obstructing. "Path people walk on." She pointed at the deck. "Where my face was thirty seconds ago." She pointed at him. "Asshole." She looked him up and down again, then smirked. Actually, this guy wasn't too bad looking. Definitely someone who worked out (he had nice arms – and probably nice pectorals under that white shirt with the top couple of buttons undone). "I think you should buy me lunch to apologize."_

_ ". . . what?"_

_ "You tripped me. I could have seriously hurt myself and I deserve an apology, sugah," said Miss Mother's Day. "And it could have been even worse. What if it had been a little old lady you tripped? You could have broken her hip! And you know how bad it is when old people break hips! Or what if it was a little kid? They'd have been crying and then their parents would have gotten involved and it would have been a big old mess for you. Or maybe some high-on-his-horse Marine who-"_

_ "I will buy you your apology lunch if you shut up."_

_ Miss Mother's Day laughed as the other traveler got to his feet and started to brush himself off, grabbing the three swords that had been resting against the ship near his napping spot. She stopped laughing as he slid them under his haramaki. "Three swords?" she asked. _You've got to be kidding. This guy can't be . . .

_ "What?" he asked. _

_ "Ah . . . I've never seen a swordsman carrying three swords before. What was your name again?"_

_ "I never told you my name."_

_ "All right, I'm asking now – what's your name?"_

_ "It's Zoro. Roronoa Zoro."_

Oh for crying out loud . . . _"Ah."_

_ Zoro glared at her. "Seriously, what?"_

_ Miss Mother's Day laughed nervously. "Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing!"_

* * *

><p><em>After introducing herself as "Giselle" (which she had 'cleverly' gotten from the name on the spine of a book someone nearby was reading), Miss Mother's Day and Zoro ordered lunch from the mess hall and got to talking while waiting for their meal. In particular, the Baroque Works agent had some backtracking to do – she'd been rude to her target and, if she wanted him to join the organization, she was going to need to be a lot nicer.<em>

_ "I wanted to apologize for being so . . . forward," she said, idly stirring her iced tea. Zoro shrugged, staring into a stein of some sort of ale. "I found myself in a bit of an unladylike position and I believe I lost my composure, sugah – please forgive me."_

_ Zoro rolled his eyes at the pet name. "Well, I probably could have chosen a better place to settle down," he said. "I had a long day yesterday."_

_ "Oh?" she asked. "Doing what?"_

_ "Got into a fight with some guy . . . Guillermo the Beast?"_

_ Miss Mother's Day nearly did a spit take. "Isn't that guy worth ten million berries!?"_

_ "Sounds about right – that's what the Marines gave me for him."_

Okay, he's more promising that the other idiots on my list, but I need to see him in action.

_ "What about you? What are you doing traveling by yourself?" Zoro asked._

_ "Me? A little bit of this, a little bit of that," said Miss Mother's Day. _

_ "Soldier of fortune?" _

_ "Kind of," said Miss Mother's Day._

_ "Is that why you gave me a fake name?"_

_ Miss Mother's Day nearly choked on her drink. "Guh?" _

_ Zoro smirked into his stein. "You got that name from that lady's book over there," he said. _

Okay, maybe he is good._ "Astute."_

_ "I don't know what that means."_

_ "I think it means 'observant'," she said._

_ ". . . you 'think' it means 'observant,' but you don't know."_

_ Miss Mother's Day sighed. "Not important, sugah."_

_ "Stop calling me that," said Zoro._

_ "I call everybody 'sugah'."_

_ The swordsman rubbed his temples and sighed. "You're not going to tell me your real name, are you?" He held up his hand. "Whatever."_

_ She paled in surprise. _He gave up on that easily. _"Seriously?" she said._

_ "Whatever reason you're using fake names is none of my business and I really don't care."_

_ Miss Mother's Day leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands. "So tell me more."_

_ "Huh?"_

_ "About your bounty hunting. Gotten any other big targets?"_

_ "Why, does it get you hot and bothered?" Zoro grinned snidely._

_ Miss Mother's Day closed her eyes. "Bounty hunters, as a whole, are a dirty, foul smelling group of ugly hairy men who drink away most of their prizes and wouldn't know a classy lady if one punched them in the jaw. I would know – I've punched a few in the jaw and they didn't know I was a classy lady. You, sugah, are clean shaven and good looking . . . though you do have a bit of rum on your breath."_

_ Zoro laughed. _

* * *

><p><em>Zoro split on her after lunch was done, divulging only one more story about one of his catches, but she kept close tabs on where he was at all times. She needed to know when he got off the ship so she could tail him after that and figure out exactly how strong he was. There was no telling how much he was getting by on false reputation or if he'd been picking off guys with over-bloated bounties. <em>

_ Unfortunately most of what he was doing consisted of napping, drinking or more napping._

Maybe he bores his bounties into submission. That's what he's doing to _me_ right now.

_Miss Mother's Day watched as one of his eyes popped open. "Are you _still_ following me?"_

_ She balked – she'd found a good perch on top of some crates and behind some barrels._

_ Zoro sat up and looked at her grumpily. "Woman, what do you want?"_

_ "I-"_

_ Miss Mother's Day was interrupted by a cry that rang across the deck. "__**PIRATES!**__"_

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

* * *

><p>". . . you weren't a very good spy, were you?"<p>

"What?"

"Zoro found you. Pretty easily."

". . . shut up and listen to the story, sugah."

* * *

><p><em>Four years ago, East Blue . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_**PIRATES!**__"_

_ Miss Mother's Day looked towards the sea and saw a pirate ship headed towards the passenger ship. She jumped down to where Zoro had been resting, keeping her eyes on the black flag and the skull and crossbones it bore. "We can get to that later. Right now I want to know you're as good as your reputation says you are, sugah."_

_ "Don't call me 'sugah'."_

_ "Fine. If you can beat up more pirates than me I'll stop calling you 'sugah'. If I beat up more pirates than you, you have to by me dinner at a fancy restaurant after we get into port," said Miss Mother's Day, rolling her shoulders to prepare for the upcoming fight._

_ "That's not an even bet, woman. If __**I**__ win you, stop calling me that AND you buy me my weight rum." Zoro was untying the bandana from his bicep, a grin on his face. "Good stuff. Not some cheap backwash that the bartender would have thrown out anyways. I want top shelf rum sold in a fancy looking bottle. Deal?" _

_ "Deal. And you better not give me some made up number, either."_

_ "You better not give ME some made up number, either."_

_ "Honor system it is." Zoro and Miss Mother's Day shook on it and raced towards the side of the ship where the pirates were headed, passing frantic passengers on their way below deck to hide as well as a handful of others with swords and guns, some of which she recognized as Marine issue, were running alongside them to join in the fray._

_ All in all about seven men and women, Zoro and Miss Mother's Day included, stood waiting at the starboard side of the ship. The agent kept one eye on her target, curious to see what he was going to do. _He's only got to hands so how does he use that third sword? Maybe he's a juggler or something – that might be fun to watch. _She'd seen weirder fighting methods – one of the Officer Agents that she reported to was an okama ballerina (sometimes they went out for drinks after she and Mr. 6 gave him their report). She'd heard there was another agent who fought with explosive boogers. _

_ The canon fire began and grappling hooks were being shot towards the ship. Being swordsmen, Zoro, Miss Mother's Day, and some guy with a banana yellow and purple striped mohawk were on the railings, slicing down ropes where they could. For the moment, Roronoa Zoro was only using one sword. "That doesn't look like some three-sword style to me!" she responded._

_ "Oh you just watch – and watch closely because I'm going to enjoy the hell out that rum!"_

_ "They don't serve rum in fancy restaurants, sugah!"_

_ The man with the mohawk was struck down by a bullet to the arm and pirates were starting to board. Miss Mother's Day drew her second sword and started picking them off. _One, two, three!_ She had an advantage – most pirates weren't as skilled with a sword as she was, and, being the somewhat sexist bastards they were, most pirates underestimated her skill because she was a woman. _Four!

_A woman with a Marine issued gun was on the ground and two more of their supposed "allies" had vanished, probably to defend another part of the ship. An old man wearing a monocle and smoking a pipe was doing very well with his ivory cane, but age and appearance meant nothing on the Grand Line so this didn't warrant too much of Miss Mother's Day's attention._

_ And then there was Zoro, who had drawn all three of his swords. The black hilted swords, which were everyday run of the mill swords available for purchase on the cheap, were in his left and right hands, whirling about him in a bladed frenzy. The third sword, which had a white and gold hilt and was far too fancy to be a blacksmith's bargain bin buy, was held firmly between his teeth. _

That's different. _She grinned. _He'll fit in nicely with the rest of Baroque Works.

_Miss Mother's Day concentrated again on upping her number of injured pirates. Zoro not only had more blade than her, but he was VERY good with them, and seeing as she could not afford to buy him his weight in fancy top shelf rum sold in attractive bottles, she needed to think smart. While she took out Pirate #10, she spied some unused netting._

We never said we needed to take the pirates out using traditional swordplay.

_ Miss Mother's Day elbowed #11 in the face before crushing his good hand with her knee as she scurried towards the netting. Zoro, it seemed, was already in the high teens so she desperately needed to get the net to catch up. She stepped on another pirate and cracked his jaw in the process (making him #12) and up the wooden stairs to her prize. Eyeing the layout of the battle before her, she grabbed a corner and made a running leap into the fray._

_ Pirates #13-#24 were now far too busy trying to untangle themselves to be a threat._

_ "That's cheating!" said Zoro, taking out his own Pirate #24._

_ "We never agreed on HOW to take these morons out!" she said with a laugh._

_ "So now we're tied, so that means-"_

_ But then the battle was over as the old man with the ivory cane skewered the pirate captain._

* * *

><p><em>". . . I didn't know we were traveling with a former Marine Vice Admiral."<em>

_ "Yeah. If he's retired and out of shape I wonder what the current guys are like?"_

_ With all of the dust settled from the pirate attack and the passenger ship safely in port, Zoro and Miss Mother's Day collected a small prize for taking out a combined total of forty-eight pirates, but since their bet had ended in a draw neither was sure how to handle things any further. They'd ended up at a tavern of slightly higher than average quality, but they sold no gourmet meals or top shelf rum._

_ Still, Miss Mother Day had reasoned that, at the very least, she'd been able to confirm Roronoa Zoro was completely worth the time it had taken her to find him. He could get himself a numbered position quite easily and Mr. 0 might give her a promotion. She closed her eyes and nursed her drink with a wry grin._

_ "Sucks that neither of us was able to win . . . although you did take out what, like half of your guys with a cheap trick," said Zoro._

_ "Marines don't give a shit how you capture your pirates – as long as you capture them."_

_ "True," he said. He closed his eyes. "At least none of the passengers got hurt – between us and that old Marine we kept the situation under control."_

_ "Yeah but he's the only one who got a worthwhile prize."_

_ "He took out the captain. By himself. All we got were some mooks."_

_ "Four dozen mooks," she corrected. "That's not exactly easy, you know."_

_ "Of course not," he said. Zoro smiled. "You stopped calling me 'sugah'."_

_ Miss Mother's Day shrugged. "Eh. You did buy me dinner again and I didn't exactly win the bet."_

_ "Guess not," he said. "Rum wasn't too bad, either."_

_ "And you're only getting the one bottle of it – savor it."_

_ "This line of work doesn't always pay well," said Zoro. He lowered his eyes. "I've had credit snapped out from under me before. A bunch of punks were around when I took out this one guy worth a hefty fifteen million, but some of them distracted me while their boss dragged the mark to the local Marine base. I was pissed but there wasn't anything I could do. I can't be the best if I'm rotting in a jail cell or hanging from the gallows."_

_ "Best bounty hunter?"_

_ "I'm not really a bounty hunter," said Zoro. "I want to be the world's best swordsman."_

_ "How are you going to do that?"_

_ "By beating Dracule Mihawk in a duel."  
><em>

_Miss Mother's Day nearly choked on a piece of bread. "You mean Hawkeye Mihawk? One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea Mihawk? The guy with the giant ass sword and eyes that look like a bird of pre Mihawk?" Her hand shook. "Look, Zoro, you're good but you're not THAT good – that's a suicide mission challenging him."_

_ "I'm not ready to face him yet – I still have a lot of training to do. But I left home to look for him so I could challenge him. I've been travelling around the East Blue for about a year now."_

_ "Mihawk's in the Grand Line, dumbass."_

_ "It can't be that hard to get there."_

_ Miss Mother's Day wasn't sure how to respond to that, though she supposed it was a common misconception. Lots of pirates got killed on Reverse Mountain if they didn't have a good navigator on board, so maybe they all thought it was that easy. But since she kind of wanted Zoro to stay alive long enough to speak with someone higher up in the rankings (like Miss All Sunday – she'd been seeing a lot of the boss' partner as of late, come to think of it) she decided to throw him a bone. "It's really not that easy. Choose how you get into the Grand Line carefully, and cherish every moment you aren't there – you can use them for more training. Mihawk's a beast of a man and if you're serious about besting him, you need to buckle down."_

_ Zoro's hand went to the white sword. "I have to beat him. I have to be the best."_

* * *

><p><em>They left the tavern about an hour later, after night had fallen. Miss Mother's Day still wasn't sure how to broach the subject of Baroque Works to him, and Zoro wasn't in as big of a rush to ditch her like her was back on the ship, so for the moment they were still together. It was a quiet town, with the bounty boards lined with dust and the Marine base staffed with a handful of out-of-shape men who took naps while on guard duty. If a pirate ship attacked this town, they'd be in trouble.<em>

_ Except that there wasn't much of interest on the island, so Miss Mother's Day figured most pirates would take a look at what the island had to offer before concluding there was nothing to be gained and leave. The buildings weren't even interesting enough to warrant rampant arson and chaos for shits and giggles._

_ "Crazy day today, huh?" said Miss Mother's Day._

_ "Yeah," said Zoro. "Real crazy."_

_ The pair had gone to the docks and were sitting on the edge, watching the moon and the stars above. There were some crickets chirping in the distance, and the sounds of the waves gently splashing against the shore and the pier. Miss Mother's Day laid back on the dock, thinking about the events of the day and what her next move would be. She knew recruitment duty was one of the few mission Baroque Works was "lenient" on, in the sense that it was all right to report back to the Boss that you didn't find anyone worthy of the company (it was better than recruiting someone who wasn't worthy), but Zoro was so good at what he did._

_ She heard the creaking of the wood – Zoro was sitting up. "It's late."_

_ "Yeah."_

_ "It's weird – I'm not tired."_

_ "You spent a good chunk of today napping – you probably fucked up your sleep cycle."_

_ Zoro shrugged. "I sleep a lot. Probably because I train so much."_

_ "Maybe." She looked back to the town, then up at the sky – there were a lot of dark clouds and they were threatening a storm. "In a town this small the innkeepers probably aren't up terribly late, so we're going to want to head to an inn like, now, if we want to catch them before they close up for the night."_

_ Zoro raised an eyebrow. "You want to get a room?"_

_ "Well, yeah," said Ria. She saw the look on his face and her eyes widened. "I meant because it's going to rain!" She sat up, then looked Zoro over again. He was handsome. And she liked the way the moonlight hit his skin. She felt a little flush. It had been a while since she'd let off some steam. The last time she'd been in bed had been three months earlier and her partner had been absolutely AWFUL – didn't know what to do with himself or with her and she'd ended up feeling unsatisfied and even more sexually frustrated than she had been when she'd encountered the guy in the first place._

_ Miss Mother's Day was starting to rethink her answer. "Unless you want to split a room."_

_ "You're not falling for me," he said flatly._

_ "No. One night stand or friends with benefits. I'm not looking for love but I could use a lay."_

_ Zoro grinned. Miss Mother's Day liked his smile. "Would be cheaper to split the room."_

_ It was a solid point. "Yeah. Do you have any protection?"_

_ He snorted. "Have you seen my swords leave my side?"_

_ "Not THAT kind of protection – I meant condoms."_

_ "Oh, right – yeah, I have a few on me."_

_ Zoro was on his feet and extended a hand to help her up after him. She took it and staggered to her a feet, butterflies flying amuck in her stomach. _This mission is going SO WELL! Not only am I probably going to bring back a great asset to the company but he's hot AND I get to sleep with him? Best assignment EVER!

_With that, Zoro and Miss Mother's Day walked back to the town. _

* * *

><p><em>Once they had checked into the inn and were in their room, Zoro-<em>

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

* * *

><p>"Okay, okay, I do <em>not<em> want those details!" Nami said, plugging her ears.

Ria laughed. "Aw, maybe there's something new Zoro could teach Sanji."

"I think if Sanji-kun heard that he'd die a little inside," Nami grumbled.

"Mmm," said Ria. "We took the necessary precautions, but I guess the condom broke and I was fertile. I left him in bed the following morning to write a quick message to Braeburn and the bosses, but when I got back he was gone. Never saw him again, and before I could find him I ran into Mr. 6 and we had to get back to base. A month later I was late and I realized I was pregnant."

"No morning sickness?"

"Didn't really have it for some reason, but I'm as regular as clockwork – I get it for exactly five days every twenty-nine and that was the very first time I had _ever_ missed one – I didn't even have that awkward phase of having them irregularly or whatever when I first started, so it scared the hell out of me when it didn't show up. It wasn't like I never had any of the classic symptoms, though. You could not keep me AWAY from peanut butter and pickle sandwiches."

"Eww."

Ria grinned. "When I had crazy baby hormones? Delicious. Now a days? Yeah, I'm with you."

"So then when you got found out what happened?"

Ria lowered her head. "I . . . remember how I said you needed to ask Braeburn?"

". . . yeah?"

"Our escape . . . I think it hurt him quite badly."

Nami frowned. "Sanji-kun said something about him being married before. Is that how she-"

Ria winced. "Worse. Way worse. But it's not my place to tell you his business, but I know this – in his heart of heart, he thought that Baroque Works was going to make his life better. He came into the organization with a lot of baggage and, somehow, left with even more. See, when we left we got help from two other agents – Miss Wednesday and Miss All Sunday."

_Vivi and Robin_, Nami thought to herself.

"Miss Wednesday was new to the company and, after her part of helping us get away, I'm pretty sure she had an agenda of her own, but Miss All Sunday . . . you need to understand that she was second in command. The boss' partner. The strongest woman in the whole company. So when she showed up I thought for sure we were dead but-"

SLAM!

"RIA!"

The sound of feet thundering upstairs was followed by the appearance of Braeburn at the top of the landing. He had a panicked look in his eyes, was covered in dirt and leaves, and was dripping with a rank smelling water. "Ria, we have to-" He spotted Nami sitting on the couch and his jaw dropped. He relaxed a little, but was still clenching and unclenching his fists nervously. "Oh, um, hi Nami. Uh . . . how are?"

Nami felt a pit in her stomach. "Braeburn, where's Sanji-kun? Didn't you two-"

"BRAEBURN, WAIT!"

The door opened and slammed again ("What the hell makes you people think you can just barge into my house like this!?" Ria complained) and Braeburn bolted out of the way as Sanji appeared in the exact some condition as the other man. He stopped, bending over to grasp his knees. "Braeburn, listen to me – I'm not mad at you!"

"Sanji-kun, what happened to you two? Why are you all wet?" She rushed to her lover and embraced him. If he was that wet, he'd been submerged, and since he couldn't swim anymore, that thought terrified her. Sanji returned the embrace, resting his head gently on hers as Ria proceeded to chew out her former partner and the girls emerged from their bedroom to investigate the commotion.

"Braeburn, what the hell? Why did you and Sanji just run in here looking like a pair of swamp monsters – OH MY GOD WHAT DID YOU IDIOTS DO TO MY CARPET!?" Ria was now making several unintelligible screeching noises at the mud and twig covered carpet in her apartment. Wendy and Sundae looked at each other and grinned.

For once the mess wasn't their fault and they were in the clear.

Satisfied that Sanji was still a bit shaken but otherwise all right, Nami turned her attention to Ria and Braeburn. "Ria, calm down, it's just mud so it'll come out of the carpet – if you can get sticky red candy out of a costume then I'm sure Sanji-kun and Braeburn can clean this up. And Braeburn, what the hell happened to you and Sanji-kun? Why are you all wet like this?"

"Duh, they went swimming," said Wendy. She sniffed the air. "You smell like frog farts."

"Why did you go swimming in frog farts?" asked Sundae.

Sanji sighed. "On our way to the fishing hole the bridge gave way while I was on it."

Ria shrugged. "That bridge has been on its last leg for a while," she said.

Nami lowered her eyes. "Sanji-kun and I can't swim," she said in a low voice.

The seamstress gave her a quizzical look before realization dawned on her. "Oh."

Sanji shook his head. "I'll be okay – Braeburn dove in and fished me out," he said.

"Why can't you swim, Uncle Sanji? Didn't anyone ever teach you?" asked Wendy.

"Unfortunately it's a little more complicated than that, sweetie," said Nami.

"When we were drying off I saw his back," said Sanji.

Ria's eyes widened. "Oh dear."

"So I was right. You _do_ know."

"Mommy, what's Uncle Sanji talking about?" asked Sundae.

The adults exchanged a look. Everyone had enough of the puzzle in their hands to know that this might not be a good talk to have in front of the girls. Thinking quickly, Ria put on a smile, clapped her hands, and turned to her children. "Wendy, Sundae, the grown-ups need to have a long, boring discussion so I'm going to find someone to bring you around the rest of the festival. Okay?"

"Okay," they said in unison.

"Braeburn, Sanji, you two need to get cleaned up," said Ria.

The blacksmith looked at Sanji, realizing he wouldn't be able to run anymore. "I've got a spare change of clothes here, right?" Ria nodded, pointing towards her bathroom. He turned to Sanji. "I promise there's an explanation – it's not what you think."

"I think I know more than you're giving me credit for, but I really just want to talk," said Sanji.

Nami put a hand on Sanji's shoulder. "Ria, I'll take him home to get cleaned up and fill him in on our conversation so everyone is on the same page – we'll be back in a little bit, okay?" Ria nodded, ushering her girls onto the couch while Braeburn disappeared down the hall and Nami led Sanji out of the shop, lacing her fingers with his.

It was turning into a very long day.

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

On the Mr. 6's task: I did some research on this and stand by my choice on what they were up to. Frontier agents primarily were in charge of bounty hunting, but we know at least one of the Mr. 7 title holders was sent to recruit Zoro so it's possible other pairs at that tier also got to go on recruitment duty.

Unlike Gala and Ria (and for that matter, I guess Mac, too), Braeburn's backstory will most likely take multiple chapters (although in retrospect I suppose Gala's could have been two chapters *shrugs*).

-Dixxy


	31. When The World Stopped Moving

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter 30: When The World Stopped Moving

_"Are you SHITTING ME!? DID HIS DICK GET LOST ON ITS WAY TO THE CONDOM!?_"

Nami was sitting on the toilet while Sanji was in the shower, relaying to him the details of her conversation with Ria. They'd waited until they were in their apartment to start talking, and since his story was shorter, Sanji had gone first. Nami had confirmed his suspicion that Ria was in Baroque Works as well, and now it was her turn. "When you look at the girls you can kind of see it. Remember how Zoro mentioned he'd been approached by Baroque Works in the past? Apparently she was one of their attempts."

Sanji grunted in annoyance. Even though Nami knew that he wanted to try and work things out with the swordsman, this obviously wasn't sitting well with him. Zoro, as far as she knew, wasn't interested in children or having a family, and yet there were two human beings running around that he was partially responsible for the creation of. Sanji, on the other hand, had been devastated when he learned he was sterile. Combine that with the general animosity they felt towards each other and, well, she understood why he was upset.

"And even worse, he just poof, disappeared on her? What the _fuck,_ Marimo?"

"Well, she left him while he was still sleeping first – who knows what he was thinking when he woke up alone. Maybe he went to go look for her," said Nami. She winced. "And you know how that would have ended. Sometimes I'm amazed he was able to navigate around the Going Merry or the Thousand Sunny."

"Yeah he probably ended up on top of a mountain somewhere or something," said Sanji. He sighed. A lot of his rage had subsided. "Still, that's going to be a big ball of _awful_ when Luffy gets here. 'Hey guys, how's it going – oh, by the way, the stupid swordsman knocked a girl up. Good to see everyone after so long!' I mean, what do we _do_ with that information?"

"Well if he recognizes Ria and sees her with the girls, he might figure out what happened, but honestly, I don't know – I haven't known this all that much longer than you have," said Nami. She forced a grin. "Can't be that much harder than explaining to Luffy and the others we each have double Devil Fruits. There's going to be some . . confusion . . . no matter what."

"It should also be pointed out that unless Yasopp has made contact with them and we just haven't heard about it yet, there's a good chance they think we're _dead._ Also, we're _dating_ – scratch that. We are _beyond_ dating – we've been living together for months and _sleeping together_ sleeping together for three of them. The shock might kill one of them – in Brook's case, _again_."

Nami bit the bottom of her lip. It occurred to her that not all pirate crews allowed fraternization amongst crew members, depending on how the captain felt about it. She really didn't think Luffy cared (hell, if she told him she and Sanji were sleeping together he'd probably assume they just liked to have a lot of slumber parties or something) but if it did cause any problems, she wasn't sure what they would do.

She swallowed and decided to change the subject. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?" Sanji asked.

"About falling into the water," said Nami. She shuddered. "That scared me."

Sanji was quiet for a moment. "It scared me, too," he finally said. "Luffy and the others with Devil Fruits never panicked like that. But I don't think anyone ever did to them what That Man did to us. But I'm okay – Braeburn got me out." The water shut off and Sanji slid the glass door open to grab a towel. "And then he ran off and, well, I'm really anxious to see what he has to say."

"He was that upset, huh?"

"His tattoo was big and even though Baroque Works wasn't a pirate crew, it's basically a jolly roger," said Sanji. He finished toweling off and dropped his towel into the hamper by the door and headed out to their bedroom. Nami followed, realizing the only bits of the story she'd gotten to Sanji were that Zoro had fathered the twins. She had other things to tell him as well.

Nami sat on the edge of their bed and finished relaying Ria's story to him while he got dressed. Sanji listened quietly, having gotten over the shock of her relationship to Zoro, and let the rest of it sink in. "But there's still a few things I have to ask. One, she said that Vivi and Robin helped them escape – well, 'Miss Wednesday' and 'Miss All Sunday' did. Based on her description of Miss Wednesday I think it was definitely Vivi who helped her."

"How so?"

"She suspected she had another agenda – that would be our Vivi."

"And Robin?"

"Not sure – when she started talking about her she kind of stopped in her tracks," said Nami.

Sanji sat on the bed as he started to pull on his jeans. "Robin had an agenda of her own in that organization as well – she wasn't really interested in destroying Arabasta like Crocodile was, so maybe she didn't want to kill Ria just because she got pregnant and let Braeburn go with her so someone could keep an eye on her. It sounds like Ria's a capable fighter when she's not pregnant, but especially considering that she was carrying _twins_, she probably wasn't able to do much the last few months of that pregnancy."

"She was probably terrified," said Nami. It was weird to think of Ria being terrified, considering how confident she usually was, but by the time they had met her she'd had some time to adjust to her role as a mother. Not to mention she was running a successful seamstress shop and was able to support her girls without much of a problem. Then again, she'd been nervous during certain parts of telling her story to Nami.

And as for Braeburn . . .

Sanji pulled a turtleneck over his head, followed by a t-shirt and one of the scarves he'd taken to wearing around his neck. Nami figured that he wore them as surrogate ties, since he wasn't wearing suits as often as he used to, or as another shield to hide the numbers. He smiled at her while he pulled on a pair of jeans. "Braeburn is a good man. If Ria was able to calm him down and we're able to explain to them exactly what happened between us and Baroque Works, he'll probably relax."

"That's a good point – they've probably been afraid of Baroque Works for the past few years, but now they're gone," said Nami. "And one of the women who helped them escaped is part of our crew. How do you think Robin will react when she sees them again?"

Sanji laughed. "Who knows?"

"Should we tell them who Vivi is?" asked Nami.

"Probably not – at least, not yet. Robin? Definitely, she'll be en route to the island with Luffy and the others. Mr. 2 as well, I guess, but we don't know him that well so I'm not sure." Sanji pulled on a worn pair of brown boots and pulled the legs of his jeans over them. He tapped his heels against the floor a couple of times. "Ready to go?"

"I've been waiting for you."

* * *

><p>Sanji and Nami arrived at the seamstress' home not long after. Ria was waiting for them outside. She seemed a bit calmer, but the blacksmith was nowhere to be seen. "Good to see you've gotten all cleaned up, Sanji." She took in a deep breath. "Braeburn's out at the moment, but he'll be back. He ran to the forge to grab something," she explained. "In the meantime let's head upstairs, shall we?"<p>

The trio went upstairs to the living room, but Ria was eyeing Sanji oddly.

Nami noticed Sanji was looking at her oddly, too. Sighing, she elbowed him.

"Ow!"

"What was that for?"

"Sanji-kun and Zoro have, um, issues, so he's still getting over the twins being his kids."

"What kind of issues?" asked Ria, raising an eyebrow at Sanji.

"Daily physical altercations," Nami said dryly.

"Lovely," Ria said with an eyeroll as she sat down on the couch. She sighed. "The twins picked up enough to figure out they were a subject of discussion. I told them the grown ups needed to talk about it, but now I'm not sure what to do. They have a right to know who their father is, but I don't know how Zoro is going to take to the news."

"And that matters because . . .?" Sanji asked.

"If Zoro doesn't react well and the twins know who he is, that could be messy," said Nami. Sanji winced. "So you want to ask us if you think Zoro will . . . react well, I guess?" Ria was looking at her lap, but she nodded. "The only thing I know for sure is that he won't just up and leave the crew to marry you or something."

"I don't want to marry him," Ria said, her eyes wide. "I just don't want the girls knowing who he is until I know if he's going to . . . be nice to them or try to play a role in their lives or something. If he's going to act like they don't exist, then what they don't know won't hurt them. But if he might try to visit or send them letters or something . . . I'd like to give them that chance to know their father. Am I making sense?"

Sanji and Nami exchanged a look. It was hard to know whether or not Zoro would try to establish a relationship with his daughters or . . . not. "Forcing him to play nice would be harmful to the girls – I think the ball really needs to be in his court," said Nami. She turned to Ria. "What we can do is talk to Zoro alone once Luffy and the others get here, or if Shanks or Yasopp make a pit stop on the island before finding Luffy and the others, maybe relay the message to him?"

"If we can do that second one that might be the best way to go," said Sanji. "It would give him a chance to have his initial reaction, whatever that is, far away from where the twins might catch wind of something not so good, and it'll give him time to come to terms with it. But it's a chicken and egg situation, Nami-san – we won't know what's going to happen until someone gets here."

As they were speaking, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs could be heard, and Braeburn emerged at the top of the stairwell. Although it looked like he'd taken the time to get cleaned up as well, he had an exhausted look on his face and was carrying a decorative box under one arm. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said quietly.

Nami slid closer to Sanji and patted the empty seat next to her. "Come on, let's have a seat in the living room, okay? It'll be fine – you're not the only ex-Baroque Works operatives we're friends with," she said calmly. Braeburn looked at her in surprise as he took a seat on the couch. "You two have to remember – we're pirates. We deal with criminals _all the time_. We're not going to shun you or anything over that."

Ria sat on the armrest beside Braeburn and grinned, flicking his nose. "I told you so, sugah."

Braeburn didn't say anything – he still looked terribly uncomfortable.

Nami took charge of the discussion. "Braeburn, why don't you go first? Whatever happen to you happened long before Sanji-kun and I had even heard of Baroque Works, so it might be easier to start there – then we can fill you two in on exactly what happened when they organization was dismantled."

"So Baroque Works is gone," said Ria, a sense of relief in her voice.

Nami nodded. "Yes, and we'll explain it after everything's out on the table."

Braeburn still looked upset, looking at Nami with sad, defeated eyes. Still, there was a ghost of a smile there – he was glad the organization was gone, too. "When we left Baroque Works, I still had a few precious things with me. I wanted to get this to show you why I joined the company." He flipped a piece on the front aside and opened the box.

The first thing he pulled out was a picture of a smiling woman. She was dark skinned, like Braeburn, but had beautiful violet eyes the color of wildflowers. Her hair was pulled into a bun with curling tendrils framing her smiling, beaming face. Braeburn lifted the picture to his face to kiss the woman. Nami's heart sunk – this must have been his wife.

"This is a picture of my late wife, Phoebe," he said, passing the picture to Nami. "One of the most amazing people I've ever met. We met when I was still an apprentice blacksmith and she was working part time as an artist. See, the blacksmith I was learning from, a good honest man named Anatak, was having a big fight with his wife and whenever he tried to buy her flowers she got mad because the flowers would always die, so he decided to get her a painting of flowers so they'd last forever. The painting she came up with was beautiful and floored everyone in that forge, and when she smiled at me my bones turned to jelly or something. Or maybe my brain did because I asked her to marry me right then and there – she laughed and told me she'd need to think about it, but she wanted to think about it over dinner some night." He laughed. "We were married about a year later – we were young and we didn't have a lot of money, but we were happy and for the longest time it was all I cared about."

Sanji frowned. Even though he was still sad, there was a lighter tone in Braeburn's voice while talking about his wife. Nami handed him the picture of Phoebe and he looked at it for several moments, taking in the image of the woman who held his friend's heart. The edges were well worn and a few spots looked a little water damaged. Sanji's heart sunk. _Tear stains_.

"She was amazing," he said. "We talked about seeing the world together when we were dating. I wanted to find the Mine of Volunder, and she wanted to paint all of the beautiful sights she saw." Braeburn put his head in his hands. "We never got the chance to do that. Life got in the way. You know how it is."

Ria had a distressed look in her eyes and had her hand over her stomach.

"She wasn't the only one I lost," said Braeburn. Now his eyes were getting misty as he grabbed a second picture from inside the box. Nami caught a glimpse and felt her blood go cold. It was a picture of Braeburn and his wife, taken maybe a few years after the first picture. Braeburn looked much younger in the photo as well, but they weren't the only ones in the picture.

There was also a little girl in the picture – she had Phoebe's eyes and Braeburn's nose.

"That's my daughter, Chloe."

* * *

><p><em>Six years ago . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em> It was the kind of day that was so beautiful it should have been uninteresting. The sky was a pale blue and not a cloud could be seen in the sky. Braeburn always thought clouds gave a day character – dark stormy clouds or little tufts of white that Chloe liked to imagine were rabbits or mermaids or whatever it was that had taken the seven year old's interest that week. Days like today were nice, but there wasn't that much else to say about them, really.<em>

_ Leave it to Phoebe to make something of the day anyways. She'd suggested the small family go out for a walk. Perhaps they could go to the beach or the market to find dinner for the evening. There was a park with a swing set that Chloe loved to run around in. Even though he felt tired, maybe the fresh air would do him some good. The prospect made him smile. Well, maybe days with no clouds weren't that bad after all._

_ And so the small family left the tiny cabin they called home to head into town. Phoebe had picked out her best sun dress for the occasion – a white dress with large orange blossoms emblazoned on the fabric – and a jumper dress for their daughter – purple corduroy with a teal t-shirt underneath. His wife was resting her head on his right shoulder and Chloe was several paces ahead of them, running a stick she'd found along the ground. _

_ Braeburn laced his fingers with Phoebe's and stole a kiss. She stole a side glance at him, knowing what he wanted to ask. Chloe had been in their hair all morning, so they hadn't had a real chance to discuss their plans for the future of their family. "Anything yet?" he mouthed to her._

_ "Not yet," she whispered back. "Be patient – sometimes it takes a while to get pregnant."_

_ "That wasn't what happened last time," he said, half-joking. Although they hadn't planned on having a child so quickly, Phoebe was pregnant within the few months of their marriage and Chloe had been born by their first anniversary. That had put a little bit of a burden on the family financially, but now it was beginning to look like maybe they had enough to bring a second child into the world. Phoebe had been offered several large commissions, giving her a full pallet of work for the next several weeks, and in the midst of business at the forge starting to boom, Braeburn had been invited to play bass for a small band in town – it wasn't much of a second job, but it did bring home an extra paycheck every week._

_ Perhaps because this time they were actively trying to have a child, however, they were having no such luck. Their doctor told them not to be discouraged and to keep trying. The best thing to do was relax, not stress out over it, and let nature take its course. But it had been four months and it wasn't so easy to relax, not stress out over it, and let nature take its course._

_ "I was thinking . . . what about names?" asked Braeburn._

_ "Hmm. If it's a little boy we should name him Marcus after his father," she said._

_ Braeburn laughed. He was particular about who he let call him by his first name. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but growing up he'd always just preferred to go by his family name. Something about his given name was very personal to him, and he only let those very close to him call him "Marcus". _

_ "And what would we call him? Junior? Marc?"_

_ "We'll see what he wants to be called – it isn't like you're using your first name anyways, Marcus."_

_ Braeburn clucked his tongue. Of course his wife was one of the lucky ones who got to call him that._

_ "What about a little girl?" she asked._

_ "Trying to surround me with women, huh?" he asked. _

_ "I don't get to choose if it's a boy or a girl. Nature does."_

_ "Well, I always loved my grandmother's first name. Rosalie."_

_ "That is pretty," said Phoebe. She leaned in closer, her steps beginning to slow down. "We can table the discussion on our son's name, but I think I like Rosalie for a little girl, too." Braeburn kissed the top of her head. Even if there was no second child on the way, at least now they had a name for her if she was a little girl. _

_ "Daddy, can I have a ride on your shoulders?" _

_ Braeburn looked down at Chloe, who was tugging on his sleeve. She had an adorable little pout on her face as she tried tug at his heart strings. He sighed heavily and shook his head. "I'm sorry, baby, Daddy's a little tired today and you're starting to get big on me. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to carry you around like that." _

_ Chloe pouted and went back to her stick. _

_ "Are you sure you want another one?" Phoebe asked._

_ "You never know – might be too late to back out of the next one already," he said hopefully._

_ Phoebe laughed, but the laughter stopped when she tripped. Braeburn caught her and she looked up at him with a hopeful smile. "Sorry, I guess I'm just a little clumsy today."_

_ "You sure?" he asked._

_ "I'm fine. Come on, we're nearly at the park now."_

_ Braeburn nodded, but kept a protective around Phoebe's shoulder._

* * *

><p><em>Braeburn kept his attention divided between his wife and his daughter the entire time they were at the park. Chloe was fine – she was bursting with energy and playing well with the other children, so he just needed to make sure she didn't wander off on them. Phoebe, on the other hand, was sitting on a bench watching her daughter play. That shouldn't have been too odd (plenty of the other mothers did that), but she was usually doing something more active, even if it was just sketching the other people around them. <em>

_ He was worried. After a while even Chloe seemed to be losing interest in playing with the other children and was constantly looking over her shoulder at where her mother was seated. By the time she lost a game of tag because she'd been just staring at her mother, Braeburn took matters into his own hands and called Chloe over to the bench._

_ "Marcus, what are you doing?" asked Phoebe._

_ "She's worried about you, Phoebe – she isn't playing with the other kids. I'm worried, too. Let's get you home and get you some rest, all right?"_

_ "Marcus, I told you I'm fine!" she said, getting to her feet. Her face had been angry, but slowly faded as she began to sway on her feet. She caught herself on the arm of the bench and put her free hand on her forehead. "I just need a minute to sit, that's all."_

_ "Mommy? Mommy are you okay?" Chloe had come up from behind him and was staring at her mother in worry. Phoebe smiled at her daughter and brushed a hand against her daughter's cheek before her eyes closed and she collapsed into the bench. "MOMMY!"_

_ "PHOEBE!"_

* * *

><p><em>The doctor didn't know what was wrong with Phoebe. She had no fever, no rashes, no sores, nothing should have been wrong with her. But she was getting weaker and weaker by the day. Braeburn stopped reporting the forge, although the master smith, Anatak, had granted him an extended leave of absence. Chloe was pulled out of school after day four – she hadn't been paying much attention to what her teacher had been saying anyways, so she may as well have been home.<em>

_ Phoebe fell asleep the sixth night and didn't wake up the seventh morning._

_ The next few days were a blur. The doctor and the town undertakers came by to take Phoebe somewhere so they could prepare her for burial. People came by to offer their condolences – Braeburn didn't recognize half of them. Maybe they had been friends of Phoebe or just townspeople who had heard about the sudden collapse and decline of one of their own. He didn't care. He just knew that he couldn't bring himself to sleep in the bed he'd shared with her for the past eight years. _

_ Chloe wasn't talking to him. She spent all of her time holed up in her room. Braeburn checked in on her every so often, but all she ever told him was that she didn't want to talk about it. He let her be, knowing she needed time to mourn as well. _She's hurting, too. She just lost her mother. I can't say I was much different when my parents died.

* * *

><p><em>It wasn't until the day of the funeral that they really talked again. It was a cloudy, miserable day. It was chill and the skies were gray from a storm that could not have been too far behind. They stood silently next to each other and the minister said a few words about Phoebe. As the crowd began to disperse, father and daughter were approached by the holy man.<em>

_ "They haven't sealed her casket yet. Would you two like to have one last good bye?" he asked._

_ It took a few moments, but both Braeburn and Chloe nodded. The minister bowed, politely excusing himself so they could have a few minutes alone. Once he was out of earshot, Braeburn took a deep breath and slowly raised the lid of the casket, trying his hardest not to burst into tears for what must have been the millionth time that week._

_ Phoebe looked peaceful, like she was sleeping. The undertaker's wife had made her look beautiful. She was in a powder blue dress, her hands folded together neatly over her stomach, clutching a gold chain with a cross. Her hair was smooth and sleek and shiny, and just enough makeup had been applied to make her almost look alive. Corpses always looked somehow like wax to Braeburn, but his Phoebe didn't look like that. She looked like she was going to sit up in that casket and ask them how their day had been and what they all wanted to do for dinner that night._

_ "Daddy?" Braeburn turned to his daughter. Her eyes were looking at her mother, and her voice was quiet and meek. He reached over to put his hand over hers and she turned to look at him. "Can I ask you a question?"_

_ "Of course, baby," he said._

_ "Do you remember that story you told me a long time ago about the Mine of Volunder?" _

_ The question took Braeburn by surprise. "Of course I do," he said. The Mine of Volunder was a legendary mine that blacksmiths liked to talk about with veins of orihalcum running through its shafts. It was said to have been lost centuries ago, but if someone were to ever find the location again, they'd be rich beyond their wildest dreams. As a young apprentice he had daydreamed about finding it, but he'd never been in a position to go looking for it. Then he'd gotten married and had a child, and he'd all but forgotten about it outside of Chloe's bedtime stories._

_ Chloe forced a smile. "Can you promise me that you'll take me there someday?"_

_ Braeburn wasn't sure how to respond to that. "You . . . want to go to the Mine of Volunder?"_

_ "Uh huh," she said. _

_ "I don't understand."_

_ "Mommy used to tell me that she wanted to see the world and paint all of the things she saw. And I asked her if that meant the mine, too, and she said that was the most important thing of all. I asked her what would happen to you and me, and she said she wanted us to be with her, of course, especially if it meant you finding your mine. But Mommy can't do that anymore." Chloe looked at her father with teary eyes. "I want to see the world for her."_

_ Braeburn understood and clenched his eyes, choking on a sob. "Of course, baby. We'll figure it out. Okay? We'll figure it out and we'll see the world." He gently put his hand on Chloe's. "Okay, Phoebe? Now we have to do it now that we've said it in front of you. Chloe and I are going to travel the world and see all the things you couldn't see."_

_ Braeburn and Chloe each gave Phoebe one final kiss goodbye before closing her casket._

* * *

><p><em> The walk back to their house was quiet. Braeburn had a lot to think about. With the funeral over, this was the moment that things finally had to begin again. He needed to figure out how to raise Chloe on his own – Phoebe's income was gone and the money they'd managed to save up had been wiped clean in the last two weeks from the illness and the funeral arrangements. <em>I can do this. I can put in a few more hours at the forge, and maybe see if I can talk the guys in the band into doing a couple of extra performances a week. I'll need to find someone to watch Chloe during all that, but in a few years she'll be old enough to take care of herself so that's only temporary. We'll be fine.

_"Daddy, why are those people standing outside of our house?"_

_ Braeburn saw a collection of men he wasn't sure he was happy to see. There were two members of the town council Augusta Birch and John Providence, Sheriff Montfilier and his deputies (Conchord and Heartford), and the governor herself, Miss Bohstahn. His eyes narrowed. They are all people he knew, yes, but he didn't know any of them very well so it seemed strange that they'd all be outside of his house like this. If they wanted to pay their respects to Phoebe, they would have done it at the wake. _Something's wrong_._

_ Miss Bohstahn saw Braeburn and turned to face him, crossing her arms and closing the distance between them. She was a middle aged woman with deep purple hair that was always pulled into a tight bun, with a streak of grey starting at her left temple that hung in a lose curl by her cheek. "Mr. Braeburn, we need to have a talk."_

_ "About what?" asked Braeburn. _

_ "A personal matter regarding the death of your . . . wife," she said curtly. Braeburn twitched at the way she had called Phoebe his "wife" and held onto his daughter's hand tightly. "Perhaps it would be best if we went inside?"_

_ "You can't just invite yourself into someone's house," he said. "We can talk out here."_

_ "Disobeying an order from the governor, are we?" she said, raising an eyebrow. Braeburn swallowed as the corner of her lip curled itself into a smirk. "I thought we'd be more comfortable inside. Besides, I think it's only polite my entourage is given a chance to have a seat, don't you? It's rude to make people stand around all day waiting for you."_

There's a reason I didn't vote for you,_ Braeburn thought to himself. Still, not wanting to cause a scene and create trouble for himself and his daughter when they least needed it, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and let the group inside. None of Miss Bohstahn's "entourage" looked particularly comfortable to be there._

_ Miss Bohstahn turned to her council members. "The file, please?" Ms. Birch produced a folder, then averted her eyes away from everyone else in the room. The governor briefly flipped through the folder before clapping it shut and turning her attention back to Braeburn. "I need to have a word with you alone – just you and me. Is there a backroom or someplace we can talk in private?"_

_ "We're already inside – what do you want?" asked Braeburn._

_ "I will tell you when we are alone," she said, gritting her teeth and glaring angrily at him. _

_ Braeburn sighed. "I'm sorry, Chloe – I'll be right back okay? Just wait here with the sheriff while the governor and I go have our talk, okay?" Chloe nodded, but looked scared. Braeburn gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. As he stood, Chloe held onto his hand – he gave her a reassuring smile before turning back to the governor. _

_ He led Miss Bohstahn to the back of the house. His bedroom and Chloe's bedroom both had doors, but he didn't want the governor to invade such a personal space (not that she hadn't alredy). He settled on a back room that he and Phoebe had discussed turning into a nursery, but was currently little more than a storage closet._

_ Miss Bohstahn turned up her nose at the room. There were boxes and trunks stacked on top of each other everywhere. "It's a storage room," Braeburn said. "I imagine you've got one at your office or your home somewhere." He took a seat on a wooden trunk that had belonged to his father, crossed his arms, and looked at the governor. "Okay, we're alone – what do you want?"_

_ Miss Bohstahn looked around in disgust before wiping off another trunk and gingerly taking a seat. "We did some investigations after the passing of Miss Phoebe Flowers," she said in a sort of cold, official sounding tone. Braeburn raised an eyebrow at that. Flowers had been Phoebe's maiden name – she'd been happily going by Mrs. Phoebe Braeburn for years._

_ "Why did you use her maiden name?" Braeburn asked._

_ Miss Bohstahn grinned. "Because that's her name. You were never legally married."_

_ In that moment the world started to slow down around them and Braeburn felt a little dizzy. "Excuse me?"_

_ "You were never legally married. As it turns out the man who officiated your wedding didn't have the authority to do so – your marriage license means as much to me as the wax paper my lunch was wrapped in this afternoon. It's trash. Meaningless," said the governor. "I've got a couple of lawyers working for my office looking into it, but so far that's what they've come up with."_

_ Braeburn clenched his fist. Knowing that his marriage wasn't legal hurt. But that wasn't his or Phoebe's fault, and even though it was shorter than he'd have liked it to have lasted, they had a wonderful marriage. "All right. So the paper didn't mean anything. I still loved Phoebe and made her happy for all the years we were together," he said. _

_ Miss Bohstahn yawned. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you did, but you're missing the point. Fluff and rainbows don't mean anything in the eyes of the law. In the eyes of the law, your marriage doesn't exist, and that means you don't get to enjoy all of the legal rights of that marriage, and since you can't marry a dead woman, I'm afraid that means you're out of luck."_

_ "Legal rights as in what?" Braeburn stated._

_ "Well, you were able to live in this house because it was a gift from your in-laws – or rather, the late Mr. and Mrs. Flowers, to whom you have no relation, and since your name isn't anywhere on the deed I'm afraid that means this house is now government property – you can't live here anymore," said Miss Bohstahn._

_ "What?!" Braeburn said, getting to his feet and looking at the governor angrily. She was just taking his home away? Over a stupid . . . that didn't make any sense! She must have known that this whole mess some kind of massive misunderstanding, so why the hell was he getting punished for it? More importantly, why did Chloe have to get punished for it? She'd be losing her home, too! "You can't just kick me out! Where the hell are my daughter and I supposed to live?"_

_ "Ah, you mean little Chloe. You mean the child you and Miss Flowers had out of wedlock?"_

_ If the world had slowed down before, now it had stopped completely. "No. You wouldn't." Braeburn turned to the door of the storage room, not even giving the governor a chance to continue before he flew out and bolted towards the living room. "CHLOE! CHLOE! BABY, WHERE ARE YOU!? CHLOE!"_

_ The living room was empty. _That's why she wanted to speak to me alone. So they could . . .

_ "We've taken her into protective custody."_

_ Braeburn spun around to see Miss Bohstahn standing behind him, still grinning. "Since your marriage wasn't legal, she isn't legally your daughter. That makes her an orphan and a ward of the state," she said. Braeburn wasn't sure if he wanted to lash out or cry or die right where he stood, but he was still too stunned to react. All he could do was stare at the governor in disbelief._

_ "I'll give you an hour to pack. I'd suggest you start now."_

_ Braeburn continued to stare at her. How could this woman just look at him in bemusement after she'd just taken everything he had away from him? How could she be so cruel? He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to strangle her, even if it was just to wipe that stupid smile off her face. He wanted his wife back, he wanted his daughter back, and he wanted everything to go back to the way it had been a month ago. _

_ "Clock's ticking," she said, pointing at her wrist._

* * *

><p><em> Braeburn found himself at one of the local taverns several hours later. He'd packed himself a few changes of clothing, a few sentimental items he didn't let the governor see for fear that she'd try to take those, too, and the last bit of money he had on him. But what little money he had left wasn't going to get him anywhere. It wasn't enough for anything really.<em>

_ So he spent it on liquor to try and escape from the world for a few hours. It wasn't working._

_ "Braeburn . . . oh Braeburn, I just heard."_

_ Braeburn turned his head to see Anatak standing next to his barstool. Anatak had a sad look in his eyes as he pulled himself onto the stool next to his former student. The old blacksmith was short so it was a bit of a struggle for him. Normally Braeburn would help, but he was too lost in his own misery to even bother. "I don't get it," he said. "I thought I was doing everything right. Married the woman I loved, had a kid that I think we were doing all right raising . . . and now everything's gone."_

_ Anatak was finally in the seat and rested a hand – warm, big, and calloused from years of working in the forge – on Braeburn's arm. "I know. You did. But that's not why I'm here right now." He got the bartender's attention and ordered two glasses of water. The bartender gave him an odd look before Anatak grunted. "He's going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning if you keep giving him grog – you're not helping, I am. Now go get me that water."_

_ "Anatak-sensei, please, you don't-"_

_ "-shut up. I never liked that woman but I didn't think she'd do this, least of all to someone like you. So I'm going to help you, but I don't think you're going to like either option I've figured out for you," said Anatak. Braeburn stared into what was left of his whiskey, considered downing it, and then shoved it off to the side. Anatak smiled. "Good start."_

_ "What do I do, sensei?" he asked._

_ "I did a little digging after I found out what happened and learned that while it's possible you could get yourself a lawyer to fight your case for you . . . no one is going to take the case pro bono, and I have no idea how you'd come up with the money to hire one in your current situation. Now my wife and I are willing to give you a room to sleep in for now, but if you do that you'll never get yourself what you need to get that little girl back."_

_ "So what do I do?" Braeburn asked, reconsidering his decision to shove the whiskey aside._

_ Anatak took a deep breath. "Before we get into that, I think I'm going to take you back home so you can sleep off the whiskey. We'll get you your water, I'll pay the tab – don't you DARE try to pay yourself – and we'll discuss it in the morning. Okay? I know I'm not your teacher anymore but let me help you one last time, Braeburn. Please."_

_Braeburn dumbly nodded and started to sob. "Thank you, sensei. Thank you."_

* * *

><p><em>". . . Anatak-sensei, that's crazy talk!"<em>

_ Anatak, Braeburn, and the master smith's wife, Annabelle, were sitting down to breakfast the following morning. "Have you got a better idea? Even if you put in extra hours at the forge or did extra performances with your band or whatever, you'd never be able to save up enough money to try and get Chloe back, and the longer she's with the governor the harder it'll be to get her back."_

_ "Anatak, you can't expect him to go out into the world to do that – he's practically a baby!"_

_ "Annabelle, I'm twenty-six and I have a seven year old," Braeburn whined._

_ Annabelle shook her head. "You haven't eaten enough pancakes," she said, plopping another stack of three onto his plate. Braeburn stared at them blankly – he'd already eaten nine. Where exactly did this woman think he was going to fit more? Especially with the conversation they were having? How could he figure out where to put more pancakes when her husband wanted him to start bounty hunting?_

_"The only profession you can get into without any kind of formal training that nets that kind of money that quickly is bounty hunting," said Anatak. He sighed. "I know it's a long shot but I make sure all of my students knew how to use their hammer to create and, when necessary, destroy. You were the best I ever passed those skills onto."_

_ Braeburn closed his eyes. "Because I had a wife and a baby to protect."_

_ "And now you've got to use those skills to get your baby back," said Anatak. "We'll put you to work for a couple of days so we can have something to get you started, but there's a special project I want you to work on in between assignments, you got that?" He grinned. "A blacksmith's hammer can do a world of good if he needs to protect his home and his forge, but you're going to need a proper warhammer if you're going to be hunting bounties."_

_ "You want me to make a warhammer?" asked Braeburn. He'd never made a weapon before – at best he'd done repair work and maintenance on the occasional piece that came in, but he'd never made one from scratch before. "Anatak-sensei, you never taught me how to make a weapon. How am I supposed to do that?"_

_ "Exactly. How are you supposed to expect this poor child to go out into the world fighting criminals?" Annabelle chided. "He's going to get himself killed."_

_ "No he won't – not if he's doing this for Chloe. As long as he's got her on his mind, nothing can kill him," said Anatak. "Annabelle darling, if we had the money to help him now you know I'd give it to him in a heartbeat. But we don't, and we're too old to try and come up with that kind of money ourselves anyways. This is his best shot at getting that girl back."_

_ "Braeburn, sweetie, are you sure this is what you want?" Annabelle asked in concern._

_ Braeburn looked at Annabelle and swallowed. "I have to get my daughter back."_

* * *

><p><em> The following week had Braeburn working what felt like every day and every night on the work Anatak gave him and the warhammer his master insisted he make. He was exhausted every night and was asleep before his head hit the pillow, but it was a good kind of tired. The more work he got done, the more invested he became in his master's plan.<em>

_ Maybe this WAS the only way to get Chloe back._

_ The hammer was big and heavy, much larger than the tool he usually worked with, but it still somehow felt familiar in his hands and it was no problem to swing it. He could be precise with it, but the weight of it crushed everything in its path. Anatak made a joke that he'd need to be careful not to hit his target's faces or the Marines wouldn't be able to correctly identify his prey._

_ Annabelle yelled at him for that and refused him dessert that night._

_ (And it was his favorite peach raspberry cobbler – Braeburn got an extra helping.)_

_ It finally got to a point where Braeburn assumed the hammer was finished, but Anatak had one more gift to give him. It was an ore, shiny and gold, and about the size of an apple. It took Braeburn a moment to realize what the glistening ore was, but he nearly fainted as he realized what it was. "Anatak-sensei! That's . . . that's . . ."_

_ "Orihalcum. I know."_

_ "How did you come across a chunk of orihalcum that big?!" asked Braeburn. _

_ "I've been saving it for a special occasion. I would have sold it if I thought it would get you the money you need, but unfortunately I wouldn't be able to get enough for it. But if you use this to modify the head of your hammer, it'll give it an extra kick," said Anatak. He smiled. "Besides, maybe while you're out there you'll be able to find the Mine of Volunder and bring me my weight in orihalcum."_

_ Braeburn smiled at the little joke as he accepted the ore. "Thank you, sensei."_

_ "Think nothing of it. Just make sure you add it to . . . uh . . . what's her name again?"_

_ "Her?"_

_ "The hammer. All good weapons have a name."_

_ Braeburn looked at the hammer sadly. "And you think it's a her?"_

_ "Looks like one to me. What are you going to name her?"_

_ Braeburn sat down, his hands gripped around the pole. "Rosalie."_

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

Lots of things in the Author's Notes this time around, I'll try to be brief.

The people who took Chloe are loosely named after the capitol cities in the six New England states (Augusta, Maine, Concord, New Hampshire, Montpelier, Vermont, Boston, Massachusetts, Providence, Rhode Island, and Hartford, Connecticut). I couldn't think of ways to misspell "Augusta" and "Providence" that made sense to me so I left those two as is, but the others were changed slightly.

I borrowed Anatak from my last attempt at a long form _One Piece_ fanfiction, _Deadline_. In this universe he isn't brutally murdered.

Special thanks to Xarciel for letting me use the line about Zoro and condoms – she left it in a review a couple of chapters ago and I kind of loved it, so I asked if it was okay to use it and she said yes. Thanks again!

I received my final dose of radiation therapy on October 1 so, excluding follow up appointments to make sure it doesn't come back, I am DONE WITH CANCER TREATMENT! HURRAY!

So I have this file on my computer called _Devil Fruit Salad_ which consists of things I cut from this series and older versions of scenes – it's huge and contains a LOT of stuff. Would you guys be interested in me putting some of those snippets out on ? It would be kind of a like a "deleted scenes" thing and feature stuff from both _A Force Against Inertia_ and _Mass x Acceleration_ and maybe stuff from "Vanished" and "Sought". Context would be given for each scene/segment, followed by an explanation as to why it is was cut. It would benefit you guys because it's something I could just throw out there if chapters are taking a long time to get out. Thoughts?

- Dixxy


	32. The Other Woman He Loved

Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Thirty-One: The Other Woman He Loved

Sanji had picked up the picture of Braeburn's family during the first part of the blacksmith's story, staring at it in horror. _His daughter._ The Chloe in the picture was smiling as she sat on her father's knee, but that poor girl . . . where was she now? And, for that matter . . . why wasn't Braeburn with her? _What's he doing here? Why isn't he looking for her?_

"So then that's why you joined Baroque Works," Nami concluded, looking over Sanji's shoulder at the picture. Braeburn lowered his head in shame. "You thought they could help you get Chloe back, didn't you?" She shook her head. "Braeburn, I was a career thief for eight years to try and save the people I cared about, and then I ended up asking a bunch of pirates for help when I realized I couldn't do it on my own and I was out of options."  
>Sanji frowned at her. "You make that sound like it's a bad thing."<p>

"You know the point I'm trying to make, idiot," she said dryly, rolling her eyes before kissing his cheek. Nami turned her attention back to Braeburn and continued. "I get it. The world at large kind of sucks and bad things happen to good people all the time. Sometimes you have to do desperate things for the people you love."

Braeburn gave her a weak smile in response. "I see your point, but, well, I did pretty well as a bounty hunter, just not good enough. I got Baroque Work's attention, though, and a man going by Mr. 1 approached me. I was told the company was trying to create a utopia and that higher ranking members in the company got higher ranking positions in that utopia. I asked if that would come with money, he said yes, and I didn't think twice about getting involved. I'd already done something desperate to get my daughter back, and I still hadn't gotten enough. So . . . I joined. Gave up my name and took the Mr. 6 title."

Nami closed her eyes. _Mr. 6 . . . something about that name . . ._

The blacksmith gestured to his back. "I got the tattoo shortly after joining. I was . . . so convinced it was going to put my family back together that I wanted it to be as big as possible. The bosses didn't disapprove, so . . . there it is. It took two, three sessions before it was all done but at the time, I thought it was worth it."

Ria turned to look at him. "And then we got assigned to each other."

"How did that go?"

"Eh," said Braeburn. "I mean, we didn't really hate each other or anything, but for the first several months I was still dealing with Phoebe's death and Chloe being taken away from me. I just wanted to get our work done and felt like I needed to keep her on task better. She, on the other hand, decided I needed cheering up."

"We really weren't allowed to talk about our pasts with each other, but I could tell Braeburn was down in the dumps, so whenever it was slow I tried to cheer him up. For as much as my childhood sucked, my friends and I had always agreed that optimism and happiness were important – positive attitude is everything."

Sanji and Nami exchanged a look, remembering days when they couldn't find a positive attitude. They took each other's hands and squeezed.

"At any rate, around a year after we had joined the organization our outpost on Starcross Island was treated to an inspection," said Braeburn. "This wasn't really anything too out of the ordinary because we had one every two months or so, but normally one of the Officer Agent pairs or Mr. 2 Bon Clay handled it. This time, however, we got word that it was going to be Miss All Sunday."

"How did that go?" asked Sanji.

* * *

><p><em>Five years ago . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em>Miss All Sunday tapped her pencil on the clipboard she was carrying, giving the Mr. 6 pair the small, slightly amused smile she gave everyone. "Your weapons cache is well stocked and organized. The Millions agents are happy, healthy, well-fed, and well trained – this is easily the highest morale I've seen at one of our outposts. And the number of bounties you've collected is impressive – Whiskey Peak has collected more beli overall but you've collected more heads. I'm thoroughly impressed."<em>

_ "Thank you, ma'am," said Mr. 6. Miss Mother's Day started pumping her fist before her partner gave her a warning glare. She paused before slowly standing up straight and trying her hardest to look professional. "It means a lot to us to hear that kind of praise coming from the top. Is there anything we can do to improve?"_

_ "Other than increasing your profit margin, not really," she said. "I'd suggest seeking out higher bounties if they aren't coming to you? Baroque Works doesn't have a foothold on every island this early on the Grand Line so perhaps creating and dispatching a few small units to those areas will help." Miss All Sunday straightened her hat. "But let's be honest – this is nitpicking. Even though they've collected more money at the Whiskey Peak outpost, most of their catches have been turned over deceased, so they've also lost a lot of money as well. Very few of your heads were deceased so your losses are significantly smaller than theirs."_

_ "So aside from bringing in more bounties . . . keep doing what we're doing?" asked Miss Mother's Day. Miss All Sunday nodded. "Great. I'll let everyone know we're doing a good job. We've got almost everyone waiting in the town hall for a report on how the inspection went." She grinned. "We should totally have a party tonight."_

_ "No, we should _not_ 'totally have a party tonight'," said Mr. 6, sighing in exasperation at his partner. "We didn't get the good report by throwing parties left and right. I mean, think about the resources we'd be wasting. And being on top of stuff like that is something we JUST got commended for. We can't throw that away!" _

_ Miss Mother's Day stuck her tongue out at him. "Sugah. Mr. 6. They have to eat tonight anyways. A bunch of them know how to play musical instruments on the side anyways – hell, don't think I haven't seen you fiddling around with the piano in the inn every so often. At most we'd maybe, maybe be putting out a little extra cash for a few more bottles of whiskey and let's be honest, they're probably going to buy it anyways. We might as well give them a morale booster."_

_ "She has a point, Mr. 6," said Miss All Sunday, taking a seat and crossing her legs. "Morale is very important. Your Millions are happy and content for the moment, but working them too hard and not giving them any time to play can lead to discontent and, at worst, complete mutiny. I'd prefer to not come back here in two months to see your heads mounted on pikes."_

_ "That was disturbing and unsettling," Mr. 6 muttered._

_ "See? Miss All Sunday is down with it, so we should totally have this party," said Miss Mother's Day. She crossed her arms. "In fact, I think we should invite Miss All Sunday to join in the festivities as well. I bet she works her ass off for Mr. 0 so she should have a chance to let her hair down, too. I bet you like martinis and conga lines, sugah."_

_ Miss All Sunday chuckled. "I prefer coffee liquors and salsa dancing."_

_ "All right, fine, coffee liquor and salsa dancing. We can make that happen, too," said Miss Mother's Day. She patted Mr. 6 on the back and winked. "Come on. Have some fun tonight, sugah. You're always Mr. Serious Frowny Face anyways. Have a couple of drinks, do a little dancing, maybe get a little lucky-"_

_ Mr. 6's eyes widened. "What!?" He gripped his left ring finger – he no longer wore his wedding ring, but hadn't moved on from Phoebe's death, not to mention he still needed to find his daughter. He put on an angry face, got to his feet, and loomed over his partner. The redhead was not phased in the least by his height and stature (not that she ever was, and this made keeping her in line a challenge). "Miss Mother's Day!"_

_ "Or you can go be a mopey sad sack in a corner somewhere. May I remind you that I have just as much say over what happens at this outpost as you do, and it looks like Miss All Sunday agrees with me," said Miss Mother's Day. "And it's not like we won't be prepared if some pirate ship floats by – these guys hold their liquor pretty darn well and I'm confident we can go from 'party mode' to 'bounty hunting mode' in ten seconds flat."_

_ Mr. 6 looked at Miss All Sunday, who got to her feet. "It might be fun," she said._

_ "All right. Fine."_

* * *

><p><em> It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be – the drunkenness wasn't as disorderly as he imagined it could have gotten, nothing was getting broken, and no one had gotten into the gunpowder to make fireworks (. . . at least not yet). The atmosphere was light and relaxed, and he had a feeling his partner and boss had been right – this probably was really good for morale.<em>

_ At least it was good for everyone else's morale._

_ Mr. 6 had isolated himself at the fringe of the festivities with a plate of food and a single stein of ale he'd been nursing for the past two hours. He smiled and waved when he was greeted, but always politely declined when asked to participate more directly in the festivities. He just couldn't put his heart into it. He wasn't even getting tipsy for the alcohol – it wasn't even that enjoyable anymore now that it was getting warmer._

_ "I didn't think you were that old."_

_ Miss All Sunday had taken a seat next to him without him noticing. Mr. 6 jumped a little in surprise before calming back down. "I'm really not that old, I'm only – wait. Are we allowed to share ages in Baroque Works?" Miss All Sunday paused to think about this, then nodded. "I'm only twenty-seven years old."_

_ "That isn't what I meant. I meant you're young to be a widower."_

_ Mr. 6 froze. "But . . . how did you know? I thought-"_

_ "The way you reached for your left hand when Miss Mother's day suggested you 'get lucky'. You grabbed your ring finger . . . where a wedding ring would be," she said. Miss All Sunday shook her head and clucked her tongue. "It's nothing to be worried about breaking company policy – it was too small, too subtle, and not as identifiable as you might think. I doubt Miss Mother's Day noticed what you did at all, and I highly doubt you're the only employee in the company who's lost a spouse or a partner."_

_ "You're probably right . . . although for all I know you've got files on every single one of us at your headquarters," he said. Miss All Sunday gave him an ambiguously knowing smile and he sighed. "I just kind of freaked out when she said that . . . I haven't been with another woman since she passed." He took another drink from his stein. "I know she thinks I'm some sort of worry wart who hates fun, but I've got my reasons for taking Baroque Works so seriously. If Project Utopia succeeds, it'll solve a lot of problems for me."_

_ "Oh? And you don't think that's telling me too much?"_

_ He shrugged. "Every single person in this organization wants something out of Project Utopia or else they wouldn't have joined. Even if it's just getting paid," explained Mr. 6. Miss All Sunday seemed interested in what he'd said, and he cracked a small, smug smile. "How exactly am I divulging anything personal if I tell you that? I have a reason for joining the organization? Well no shit – everyone has one of those."_

_ "Touché."_

_ Mr. 6 raised his stein. "To Project Utopia?"_

_ Miss All Sunday raised her wine glass. "Indeed."_

_ Glass clinked against metal._

* * *

><p><em> Despite himself, Mr. 6 found himself enjoying his conversation with Miss All Sunday. Talking about things like literature, philosophy, and music (a subject she knew next to nothing about but seemed interested in) was something he hadn't done in ages. "I've always wanted to play a musical instrument, but I never learned how," she said.<em>

_ "Which one?" he asked. _

_ "I don't know if I ever put much thought into which one," Miss All Sunday admitted. "I just never had the time . . . or the chance." Her voice got quieter as she stared at her long since empty wine glass. Mr. 6 frowned, and then got an idea. _There is that piano in the tavern, and it looks like most of the Millions have retired for the night_. He looked around the town square where the party had been. Only a few men and women remained, most of them quietly chatting amongst themselves or starting on clean-up duties. Most important, it was quiet._

_ "You know what? Let me give you a music lesson," he said._

_ "Oh?" asked Miss All Sunday. _

_ Mr. 6 nodded. "We have a piano in the inn."_

_ "Is it tuned?"_

_ "I just tuned it the other day," he said. They got to their feet and started to head towards the inn._

_ "Seems like a good use of your time," Miss All Sunday said with a smirk._

_ "Just because Miss Mother's Day thinks I'm a killjoy doesn't mean I don't get bored," Mr. 6 said with a chuckle. "Keeping the piano in tune is . . . well it's kind of what I do to relax when I need a break. We have a few people who play but they don't know a thing about keeping the darn thing playable. One guy was ready to take an axe to it because he thought it was broken."_

_ Miss All Sunday laughed. "Oh my."_

_ "Luckily I got to him in time because she's really nice – a baby grand. Her finish has seen better days but the wood's still gorgeous," said Mr. 6. "And she makes a beautiful sound." He crossed his arms as they approached the inn and he opened the door for her. "The lounge is this way, ma'am." _

_ Before Starcross Island had been set up as a Baroque Works outpost, he imagined the inn had been largely used by travelers, most likely before the beginning of the Great Pirate Era. Now it was barely used – he, Miss Mother's Day, and a few Millions used the second floor as a dormitory. Miss All Sunday had been staying there during the inspection on the otherwise unused fourth floor, where there was a larger suite that the Frontier Agent pair had fixed up when they learned who would be doing the inspection this time – it seemed like a bad idea to give the boss' partner anything less than the best available housing on the island. "Do you know how to read sheet music at all?" _

_ "I've read books about it."_

_ "Well, we'll see how much you retained," he said. They reached the lounge and the two began to tag-team lighting the oil lanterns lining the walls of the room. When they were finished, they approached the piano and Mr. 6 sat on the right side of the bench, patting the empty spot on the left for Miss All Sunday. She gingerly took her seat._

_ Mr. 6 went through a few quick scales to figure out if the piano was in tune. Everything sounded fine, and he sighed with relief. "All right, so let's start by talking about the keys. See how the black and white keys follow a pattern?" Miss All Sunday studied the keyboard for a moment, and her eyes widened slightly before she nodded, and he explained which keys corresponded to which notes. She nodded along and started reciting which notes on the piano she was playing as she struck each key. Mr. 6 laughed as he picked up the book of sheet music left open on the stand and started to look for an easy to play melody for her to try._

_ "Ah. This one's pretty easy. Try this," he said. "Ignore this line for now – that's for chords, which play the harmony part of a song. It's a little tricky to do the harmony and the melody at the same time when you're just starting out, so let's do this one part at a time." Miss All Sunday nodded and focused on the task at hand. It was slow going, and she was holding each note for far too long, but she wasn't doing bad at all for a beginner._

_ They went through the song several times, and by no means did she master it, but she was able to fumble her way through the melody and the harmony over the course of about an hour. "Well, we've heard my rendition of it – may I hear yours?" she asked. Mr. 6 nodded, cracking his knuckles before playing through the piece and adding a few flourishes to the chords. Miss All Sunday studied his playing, nodding along and noting the liberties he was taking._

_ "So you don't follow the music exactly?"_

_ "Not really, know – the arts are about emotions and feelings. The technical bits are only part of it. The little flaws and deviations are what make art and music unique. Like . . . do you ever go to the theater?" Miss All Sunday nodded. "Ever seen the same play put on by different companies? They'll each put their own spin on it – the sets and the costumes will be a little different, the way the actors deliver their lines is going to be a little different, sometimes they may even add or subtract things as they seem fit."_

_ "So then why learn the technical part of it?" _

_ "Because in order to break the rules you need to know what they are first," Mr. 6 explained. He caught a glimpse of the clock, and it captured his attention. "Whoa. Take a look at the time." Miss All Sunday looked at the clock on the wall and her eyes widened. They looked at each other, stared for a few moments, and chuckled. "Guess we lost track of time, huh?"_

_ "I . . . suppose so," Miss All Sunday said slowly, looking at the piano sadly._

_ Mr. 6 raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"_

_ "I had fun tonight," she said. "And . . . now I feel lonely."_

_ Mr. 6 frowned. "Do you want to play another song?"_

* * *

><p><em>Present Day<em>

* * *

><p>"I . . . ended up spending the night in her room," Braeburn admitted, looking at his hands in his lap. "We were both lonely, I was apparently . . . more ready than I thought I was to get back in the saddle . . . and it just kind of . . . happened, I guess. It started off as a casual thing though – just a way to blow off some steam and have some good conversation. I felt this . . . void without my family, and maybe it wasn't the best way to try and fill it, but . . . well, I think Phoebe would've hated it if I never tried to move on, and as for Chloe . . . getting in good with the second in command, I figured, was probably a good way to get more influence and power in the company so I'd be able to go back home and get her once it was all said and done."<p>

"Good conversation . . . and just what the fuck was I supposed to be?!" Ria snapped.

"You and I weren't really friends at that point," said Braeburn. "Remember?"

"Oh yeah. But still, now I'm mad at you," she said, crossing her arms and legs in a huff.

Sanji's eyes darkened. "So you were using her?"

"It was mutual. She's a very . . . blunt . . . woman and proposed the affair like this," Braeburn said. He made his face as stoic and serious as possible. "'I believe that it would be to our mutual benefit to fornicate regularly in order to alleviate sexual frustration and stress.' It was the strangest invitation to jump in bed with a woman I've ever gotten but I said 'I agree . . . I think' and she smiled in amusement and that was that. Over time we arranged more times to meet up and it turned into a thing, I guess. We had to keep in on the down-low or else . . . well, we didn't know what would happen. It was possible we'd get 'fired', and in Baroque Works getting 'fired' meant 'getting killed'. So we had to be careful. She'd find reasons to visit our outpost more often, or I'd find reasons to leave the outpost for business and she'd arrange to have business, too."

Nami's eyes widened and her jaw slightly dropped. _That's right, I remember now. Robin told me she'd had an affair with a Mr. 6 back on the Thousand Sunny. I can't believe I didn't realize that before now. _She felt a pit in her stomach as she remembered more of Ria's story. The reason she and Braeburn were on the island was because Baroque Works wanted them dead.

Whatever happened between Robin and Braeburn had ended horribly.

She glanced over at Sanji. He had a blank, unreadable expression on his face. _I wonder what the hell's going on in side of _his_ head right now?_ Nami loved Sanji – really, she did, they had a wonderful, loving relationship with trust, respect, great sex, and openness – and she knew he'd never cheat on her, but to say that he wasn't still, on at least some level, a bit of a pervert?

Not a chance.

He still had the occasion impure thought about Robin.

_"Think about it, Nami-san – her Devil Fruit power."_

_ "What about it?"_

_ "Imagine how she could use that in bed. The possibilities are ENDLESS."_

_ "Sanji-kun, go the fuck to sleep."_

_ "Boobs _everywhere_."_

_ "Sanji-kun . . ."_

_ . . ._

_ . . ._

_ " . . . everywhere . . ."_

(This only succeeded in keeping Nami awake for two hours as she put some thought into what Sanji had brought up as well. She ultimately concluded that while she was still pretty sure she was straight she was at least curious about what Robin was like in bed on at least an intellectual level and maybe someday he'd get to have that threesome she didn't need to ask if he'd fantasized about having with the two of them after all.)

"Braeburn . . . you once told me you'd loved two women. She's the other one, isn't she?" Sanji said, his tone more serious than Nami would have expected – she supposed she expected complaining about how the hell Braeburn got Robin into bed in one night and how all of his wooing over the course of several months had failed to do the same, or maybe flipping out and demanding to know if their friends had slept with any more of their crewmates out of some sort of irrational anger. This honestly surprised her.

Then again, there was no denying Sanji had grown up. He wasn't the same person he'd been on the Thousand Sunny. He was happy with their relationship and, even before they'd gotten involved with each other, his wandering eye had all but vanished. Moreover, he didn't look angry or jealous, and those were two emotions Sanji was TERRIBLE at hiding (actually, he really wasn't good at hiding _any _of his emotions). _What are you getting at, Sanji-kun?_

Braeburn closed his eyes and continued.

* * *

><p><em>Four and a half years ago . . .<em>

* * *

><p><em>It had been another of their secret meetings. They'd both found reasons to be on that island – Miss All Sunday couldn't tell him her business, but he'd gone on a supply run for Starcross Island. She made the reservation at the inn and brought the wine, he'd arranged for takeout. They ate in the room, talked about the books they'd been reading, and then enjoyed the other "benefits" of their friendship.<em>

_ "You seem to get better and better at this," Miss All Sunday said in a smooth, breathy voice. The island they had met on was a summer island in the middle of a heat wave and her hair was slightly slick, sticking to the sides of her face, a few strands laying across her eyes and nose. He gently reached over to move them._

_ "Thanks. You do, too."_

_ Miss All Sunday twisted around under the sheet. "I'm looking forward to this more each time."_

_ Mr. 6 grinned. "Me, too."_

_ She closed her eyes. "But I don't think this is about relieving sexual frustration anymore."_

_ "Oh?" he asked._

_ "I've been enjoying our conversations. I've been thinking about you, but not just about the sex. You always seem pleased to see me, but not just because you're expecting intercourse – you were quite engaged in talking about your reading tonight as well." She sat up and brought her knees to her chest. "I'm not used to that."_

_ "You should be – you're a fascinating woman," said Mr. 6. "You're really smart – a hell of a lot smarter than me, at least." He closed his eyes. "And you've got a great laugh whenever I can figure out how to get you to do that. And I wish you laughed more often. Sometimes, even when we're together, you still look so sad." He sat up and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. _

_ "This right here . . . this is too intimate," she said. "This is more than just sex."_

_ She was right. Something about this was too intimate to be what they had going before. Not with the kind of talk they were having right now. Not with the way he was trying to comfort her. _We screwed this up. We really fucked this up. _"What are we doing here anyways?"_

_ Miss All Sunday looked over at him. "This is more than just casual sex now, isn't it?"_

_ "Yeah. I think so too." Mr. 6 started to lean in closer to her, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed. With all of the things they'd done over the last six months, kissing was the one thing they really hadn't done. At least, not lips to lips. But he felt her finger over his mouth and his eyes popped open. Miss All Sunday had a worried, concerned look in her eyes._

_ "I don't want to continue this affair like this," she said._

_ "You . . . want to stop seeing each other?" he asked. He frowned. _Well, I guess that makes sense, though . . . if it's going too far maybe it is best to part ways before we get hurt . . . or dead . . . _"I understand. If you don't want to see me anymore . . . like this . . . then maybe-" She put a finger to his lips and gave him that knowing, amused smile._

_ "Not at all."_

_ "Then, what it is?"_

_ "If this is something more . . . I want to know who you are."_

_ Mr. 6 turned his head in confusion. "Uh . . . I'm Mr. 6?"_

_ "No. Mr. 6 isn't who you really are," she said, pressing her hand to his chest. "It's all been Miss All Sunday and Mr. 6 and 'you' and . . . if everything we've been doing up until now has been just sex and going forward it's going to be more than that, I want to know more than just my partner's code name. I . . . I want to break _that_ rule."_

_ "Are you sure?"_

_ "Mr. 0 will have us terminated if he finds out about this anyways – another broken rule can't make our situation any worse than it already is," she said plainly. She sat up. "That's why I see no harm in sharing anymore. We got here because of mutual loneliness, and we've resolved that. The next step, I believe, is the truth. Who are you? And do you want to know who am I?"_

_ He took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. "Marcus."_

_ Her eyes were watering. "Robin."_

* * *

><p>Author's Notes<p>

I know what you're all thinking. Well, a couple of things, but let's go with the one you might have been aware of longer. Yes, there a long break between chapters. We obviously just got done with the holidays and I've been back to work (or _trying _to get back to work) since about September. There were also some crazy moving shenanigans in late summer and settling . . . took a while . . . and some REALLY awful writer's block. Why writer's block? Well, SHOCKINGLY, I wanted to make sure this chapter was handled well because I did something kind of scandalous, as I'm sure you're all aware.

I mean seriously, a _My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic_ reference? What was I thinking?

No, of course I'm talking about the whole Braeburn and Robin thing (although I wasn't lying about the pony reference ^_^), and this was a MUCH bigger risk than the whole Ria and Zoro thing because whereas Ria's pretty much of the "it was a one time thing" school of thought, that clearly isn't the care here.

We're getting to the end of this story arc – there should only be one or two more chapters left (I can see pros and cons for keeping it all in one chapter as well as pros and cons for putting it into two chapters _ ) and then you'll get a lead in to the next story arc which I think is going to have something a LOT of your have been anticipating.

Like seriously, I expect people to be farting rainbows, sunshine, and unicorns.

Dixxy


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